


Undone for the Last Time

by umbrellaless22



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (but he'll get over it), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: c02e086 The Cathedral, Essek isn't impressed, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-indulgent comfortfic, Slow Burn, Spoilers for Episode c02c087: Punishment and Politics, Temporary Character Death, back from the dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:00:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 33,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbrellaless22/pseuds/umbrellaless22
Summary: The Nein aren't able to heal Caleb after Jourreal's attack at the Cathedral. Jester calls in one more favour.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 147
Kudos: 833





	1. Rescue

The message came shortly after Essek had retired for the evening. He had his navy and gold lounging robes knotted smartly over his nightwear and fur-lined slippers warming his feet. He had only just sat down for a cup of mulled wine and was not the least bit interested in performing any favours for anyone. He had not heard the tiefling’s voice quite like this before, however: her words tumbling out together so quickly that for a moment it was hard to make sense of them. What was clear was the urgency and the desperation.

“Hi Essek, please don’t be mad, but it’s Caleb—I don’t have the components for revivification and we’re like really really scared and I don’t—"

Caleb. Revivification. Alarm burst up from Essek’s solar plexus, choking him. He wrested the reaction back down, refusing to examine it, and instead replacing his panic with anger. Fool mercenaries, of course they couldn’t be trusted with the life of Caleb—the clever, unassuming wizard was vulnerable, soft, _human_. And apparently dead or dying.

He responded swiftly.

“Jester, tell me where you are, slowly. _Precisely_ where you are, please. Be specific.”

The response this time was measured, each word chosen carefully.

“Rexxentrum. The catacombs in the Chantry of the Dawn. Cathedral to the Dawnfather. Four braziers surround a fifth. Bodies. Stone floors. Please, Essek, help us.”

******

The party was in rough shape, that much was clear. Beauregard’s breaths were short and fast and she was curled in a crescent with the tall woman crouched beside her. Fjord was slumped up against a stone slab, clutching a limp arm, wan and unsteady. Caduceus and Jester were standing, concerned and helpless, in the centre of the catacombs and the whole place stank of death. The motionless form of Caleb was held in the trembling green arms of Nott. The wizard’s back was towards him and it was black with blood, the floor beneath him slick with it.

“Essek!” Jester gasped when he materialized, moments after receiving the location and still in his dressing gown. “Oh Essek, thank you for coming here, we really—”

Essek raised a hand to stop the words. He could still taste anger and it piqued again when he realized how close an opponent must have been to carve Caleb up like so much meat. Did they not realize how valuable he was? A wizard who could pick up Dunamantic spells with such ease, as if simply by transcribing them he could embody them. Essek had never seen his like.

Essek gave his head a firm jerking shake as if to clear his thoughts by force and swept past the healers towards his mark.

Nott relaxed her grip, Caleb’s face falling away from her chest. His glassy eyes stared, lids set, blood staining his chin and neck and crusted in the natural creases of his skin. Worse, though, was the thick black protrusion of Caleb’s veins. From his temples to his hands, all visible vessels were thickened with heart-stopping black ichor. It streaked his neck and his hollow cheeks, from the larger veins to the delicate capillaries beneath his eyes. His skin was mottled with corrosive decay and it pained Essek to see it.

Caleb was dead.

Essek couldn’t fix him. Not here.

“How long?” Essek demanded.

“Not long,” Caduceus responded, “Minutes. We thought he had stabilized but—the poison. She poisons her daggers and it took hold.”

One curt gesture and Essek levitated the lifeless form up beside him. Minutes, that was good. He could work with minutes. The goblin cried out but Essek couldn’t speak, his mouth too full of ire. This undeserving band of misfits, Essek felt his lip curl in disgust. The black vein poison was obvious and required action far more immediately that the closure of his wounds. Any healer should have seen that.

“Do you wish to accompany me back to Xhorhas?” He forced himself to ask, loathing the idea of their company, “I will take his body there, see what I can do.”

He sensed the nervous silence from the group before Caduceus spoke again, “As much as we want to, but we have to finish our business here. Obann is still out there, and the creature that did this to Caleb. We have to end this.”

“And do you think that is within your capabilities?” Essek inquired, coldly.

“We don’t know,” Fjord spoke this time, “but we know we have to try.”

“Very well. You know how to reach me.” Essek gave a short nod, drew the runes, curled a hand round Caleb’s bicep, and the two were gone.

******

Essek messaged two of his household staff, Craetr and Verk, upon arriving home to the manor, asking for clean linens, boiling water, iodine, elder bark and the black vein antidote from his stores to be brought up to his study. Essek didn't trust them with state secrets, but he certainly trusted their discretion. They wouldn’t be part of his household if he didn’t.

In the meantime, with Caleb’s body still levitating motionless beside him, Essek cleared off a table, re-homing ancient parchments and ink bottles and sliding a few charmed objects into drawers. Every time he was down here he was reminded of his need for better organization, but affairs of state being what they were…another day, perhaps. When he had somewhat less pressing matters at hand.

Verk cleared his throat upon entering the room, a large cauldron suspended by the handle from his thick orcish forearm and a stack of pressed towels in his hands. If he was fazed by the dead body floating beside his pajama-clad employer, he didn’t show it.

“Ah, Verk, thank you. Just here, if you will.” He quickly cleared space on an adjacent table for the items. Verk placed the items the supplies in the indicated space and left.

Essek was wiping down the surface with the hot water when Craetr appeared with the antidote and the other supplies. They placed them beside the cauldron. “Let us know if you need any further assistance.”

“I think that should be all tonight. You have my apologies for the late hour—I appreciate your service.”

Craetr gave the customary response, “It is nothing,” then they also departed.

With Craetr gone, Essek turned his attentions to the corpse before him. He quickly stripped the cloak and shirt to examine Caleb’s back. It appeared the Nein spoke the truth—they had healed the wounds. A dozen dark red wounds remained, angry against the pale skin, but they were knit closed far beyond what any natural coagulation could have achieved. The poison stained black in Caleb’s veins, webbing over his chest and back, hard to the touch. Essek then removed the wizard’s boots and trousers and made a quick scan for any other injuries, but there was nothing of note, just endless darkened lines tracing the poison’s course.

Essek unraveled the wrappings around Caleb's forearms, revealing his scourger marks, another symbol of the Empire's barbarity. Mutilating mere children. He traced a knuckle along the angular lines there. A dangerous part of him wanted to stop, to study these markings in detail, but he put that impulse away, for now.

Otherwise satisfied with his inspection, he lowered the corpse onto the table before him. He gathered the elder bark into a small pile on the desk and began to transcribe the runes. He told no one he knew this spell—not even his queen. She would think it blasphemous to deny someone their future life and ascension, and those that were unconsecuted, well, they were below her concern and as such should also be below his. Besides, the spell was tricky work and Essek knew it more in theory than in practice. He was less sure of himself than he wanted to admit.

Essek breathed deeply and spread his fingers wide, hovering over Caleb’s form.

He meditated, thrusting his vision back to the catacombs, imagining Caleb there, still living, cradled by Nott. He needed the moment, needed to see it, the precise moment before Caleb breathed that last breath, before the ichor took hold completely. He pictured the wounds in Caleb’s back: black and throbbing, bleeding ink into his veins that spidered upwards towards his centre. Imagined them racing towards his heart as it beat and there—that moment, he had it now. It felt crisp and exact, almost easy, as if he had opened the man's chest himself, had placed a fingertip on the pliable vein, halted the progression of his death. With that, Essek froze time, froze the blood Caleb’s veins. He poured the iodine over the runes, then smeared a finger through the black liquid and drew a box on Caleb’s chest around his heart, protecting it from the oncoming invasion. He reached back to his moment and, with an incantation, obliterated Caleb’s future from that point and restarted it here: here in Essek’s study, laid bare on this table.


	2. Resurrection

There was nothing subtle about Caleb's resurrection. The desperate gasp of a drowning man, the velocity of the air scraping down his trachea and reaching his starving lungs. His back arched unnaturally, the crown of his head extending back against the table's surface, his pupils blown wide as his limbs contorted in rolling spasms. 

Suddenly an arm thrust beneath his back and he found himself hoisted half upright, an open vial at his lips. 

"Drink, Caleb, quickly." The tone was calm, commanding, familiar, Caleb couldn't think, couldn't place it and suddenly his mouth was full of an astringent viscous fluid. It sat phlegm-thick and bitter on his tongue and he was on the verge of spitting when the Shadowhand came into view. The handsome face was as inscrutable as ever save for the hint of a crease between the dark brows. 

"It's an antidote," came that voice again, Essek's voice, he now knew, "my spell is holding but not for long. Swallow, please."

Caleb didn't know if he could trust the man, but neither could he come up with a reason why the other wizard would cause him harm, and so he swallowed the caustic mouthful. 

"Good," Essek said, "Excellent, Caleb." Like he had just performed some sort of praiseworthy feat. Caleb didn't understand. Essek wasn't looking at his face, but instead his eyes were locked on Caleb's chest. Caleb followed his gaze and startled to see the mess of sprawling black patterns leading towards the watery outline of a box around his heart. There, his skin was clear--the lines pulsating up against the edges but failing to advance. He half skittered back along the table, reviled by himself, wanting to escape his own body, but came up against the solid resistance of Essek, bracing him in place. 

"What--" he started, then stopped, his voice too hoarse and his mind too clouded to know how and what he even wanted to ask. 

Essek placed a clinical hand under Caleb's chin and tipped it back, exposing his throat. 

"It's working here already," Essek informed him, and he felt a knuckle brush a line down alongside his trachea. "Look," he gestured to Caleb's torso. Caleb watched the black lines retreat from the barrier around his heart, watched his veins soften and return to their normal bluish tinge. He felt his limbs give up their furious tension as there, too, the poison lost its hold. With it also went his strength and Caleb felt himself slump helplessly against Essek's arm. 

"Steady, now," Essek remarked, easing Caleb's head and shoulders back down onto the table. Caleb closed his eyes, nausea overcoming him, just breathing a colossal effort. Even without seeing, he could still feel Essek's discerning gaze examining him, marking the progress of the antidote, "Can you turn? I need to see your back, check the wounds there."

Caleb didn't know if he could. Felt quite positive he couldn't. He shook his head once. 

"With a little help then, perhaps," Essek replied, unperturbed, and Caleb felt cool hands at his shoulder and hip and a firm, steady pressure as he was rolled onto his side. He groaned miserably, trying desperately not to vomit up the antidote. 

"I know," Essek acknowledged, mollifying him, "but nearly done." A pause and some light palpations that caused Caleb to flinch violently, the pain deep rooted and visceral. "Apologies, I imagine those are still quite sore, but they look excellent, your friends did good work with them." 

"Where--" Caleb tried and failed again to communicate.

"They are still in the Empire," Essek answered his unvoiced question, walking round to the other side of the table so as to be once again in Caleb's line of sight. The pads of Essek's fingers deftly found Caleb's radial pulse and rested there for a long moment, "determined to follow this cult obsession through to its conclusion. And now spurred on by vengeance as well, I expect." 

Essek released Caleb's wrist and straightened his...dressing gown, Caleb realized, his eyes landing on the intricate garment.

"I've...I've kept you up, Shadowhand," Caleb croaked. 

"And what is one more favour, hmm?" 

"I'm in your debt, of course—" 

"I jest." Essek interrupted "Mostly. But we both should get some rest." 

And then quite suddenly Caleb found himself rising off the table surface, tipped vertical, his feet mere inches from the ornate rug below, naked save for his underclothes. His muscles felt impotent and useless and he knew it was Essek's magic keeping him upright. In a moment the drow was behind him, and Caleb felt something smooth and warm being maneuvered up his bare arms and over his shoulders. When Essek reappeared before him, it was to knot the housecoat firmly at Caleb's waist. 

"I'll have your clothing sent for tomorrow, but I trust this will do you for tonight."

Caleb could only nod, the warmth soaking into his ailing body like a desperately needed balm.

*****

The room that Essek quite literally led (a capable hand on his elbow floating him down stairs and along hallways) Caleb to was sparse but finely furnished. A large bed suspended by Dunemancy took up much of it. A small tray floated beside the bed in lieu of a bedside table. A chest of drawers, a large mirror and an embroidered bergère complemented the bed covers in their rich chestnut and platinum hues. 

"May I offer my assistance?" Essek spoke, discerning Caleb's anxiety over getting himself into the bed when he was still too weak to stand. 

"Please." 

It was an unsettling experience, feeling his body move in space without his control, from vertical to horizontal then falling gently on his side so as to avoid the tender wounds on his back. The sateen sheets were welcoming and he was partially propped up with pillows. Essek then pulled the comforter up over his body, tucking him in as if he were a child. 

Caleb felt himself submit to sleep almost upon contact, only to find himself roused again shortly after by Essek who was holding a small dish of fruits and dried game and a full stone cup of water. 

"Forgive me," Essek murmured, "but I must ask for you to replenish your salts and fluids before you sleep. It will aid in your convalescence." He set the dishes down on the levitating tray. 

Caleb, foggy with exhaustion, reached out an unsteady hand, eating a few morsels and taking a few swallows as instructed. 

"Good," Essek remarked when Caleb finished, slumping back into the pillows, the fatigue too great to continue, "that's very good, Caleb. You've done well." 

Caleb drifted off during the oddly reassuring words, all but missing Essek's final observation: "Quite remarkable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who took the time to kudos and comment. This is my first fic and I was v v nervous about posting it. So appreciate you being so kind! Y'all are watering my crops out here!


	3. Vigil

Essek stood at Caleb's bedside long after the human had succumbed to sleep. Essek's glowing orb bobbed alongside his shoulder, glancing its light off Caleb's slack face and exposed neck. Essek found his eyes lingering on the pulse point there, the faint biphasic flutter steady and reassuring. Caleb was alive, he told himself, a valuable asset secured.

He exhaled a long, shuddering breath. The day had _affected_ him, he had to admit it. He didn't exactly like being affected and it was not an experience that he particularly wanted to interrogate. 

Essek knew he was testing the limits of his abilities. The spell, which felt so flawless at the time, was making its toll known. He needed to meditate, needed that long uninterrupted replenishing trance, but was reticent to go to his own quarters, away from the constant rise and fall of Caleb's chest and the flicker of blood in his jugular. It was a preposterous impulse, almost superstitious, as though he could keep Caleb alive by with his gaze alone. 

Jester's voice sounded in his head—loud and jarring as a trumpet. 

"Hi Essek, please don't be mad, but we are all just really really worried and please could you tell us how Caleb is please and—" The message cut off and then restarted almost immediately. "Oh shit, this is my last spell! Also if he's okay tell him we're all fine and Obann's dead and Jourreal was actually mind-controlled so..."

Essek ground his molars. An undignified part of him wanted to deny her a response altogether, there was just something so _uncouth_ about the Nein—how all their admittedly impressive successes seemed to be the result of dumb luck and raw talent rather than anything resembling true cunning or foresight. Nevertheless, Essek could still sense the desperation in Jester's voice, could remember the weight of the loss in the catacombs. He knew it would be petty to deny them. 

"He lives," he responded, "I'll know more tomorrow but have no cause for concern, currently."

Essek returned his attention to Caleb and sighed. He summoned the bergère to the side of the bed. The Nein weren't the only fools, it would seem, but here was as good a place to meditate as any. Essek permitted his gaze to turn back to Caleb's undulating pulse, and, using it as a focal point, he rested.

******

Essek was relieved to find Caleb still asleep when he concluded his trance. He hadn't particularly wanted the human to witness his embarrassing and vaguely ridiculous vigil. Now restored, his need for physical reassurance of Caleb's vitality was lessened and the anxiety of the night before felt even more irrational. 

He messaged Craetr, asking for them to keep an awareness of Caleb's consciousness and to provide the human with whatever assistance might be required, depending on his strength. He sent Verk round to the Nein's quarters to gather some of Caleb's personal belongings (and conduct any informative surveillance of the property), and tasked the kitchen with preparing a more extensive breakfast than usual. He brewed himself a cup of strong tea before preparing a version of events for the Bright Queen that walked the line between a lie and the truth. 

******

"Guess where our new friends spent their day?" the Empress asked him, once Essek had ensured they were not being overheard, magically or otherwise. 

"From what I understand, attacking cultists. Besides the one currently occupying my guest quarters, that is." 

"Mm," the Bright Queen responded, "and we'll discuss _that_ decision later. But for now, my sources tell me that the remainder of the Nein are housed with Mage Ludinus Da'leth on the request of King Dwendal, claiming to have been loyal Empire spies and tasked with bringing us to the table. Honestly, Essek, I don't quite know what to make of them. They do nothing to mask their tracks or protect themselves from listening ears. They pledge no loyalty and speak far too freely. I can't decide if they are extremely terrible spies or oddly capable ones."

Essek steepled his fingers at his chin, considering. He'd often had the same thoughts, himself. While he personally wasn't involved in scrying at the Nein's Xhorhassian lodgings (that was rather below him), he knew it was conducted often enough, and that the party was shockingly candid in their dealings.

"I'm afraid we must take them for what they are, your Grace, violent and earnest seekers of peace."

The Bright Queen observed him with her knowing Umavi eyes, "There is something charming in their naiveté, I suppose," she permitted, "I can understand your...curiosity. But must I remind you to be cautious, Shadowhand? You would hardly be the first state advisor to commit treason for the sake of a bleeding heart and a handsome face."

Essek bristled internally at the words, he'd never considered himself careless, stupid, or at all sentimental, and he didn't intend to become so inclined. 

"I do admit I find the wizard intriguing, your Grace, but not in the way you suggest," Essek admitted, "He is powerful, I think, though much of it is yet unharnessed. He could prove to be a boon to the Dynasty, with the right persuasion."

"And do you think you are fit to persuade him?" She enquired. 

"I know what he wants, as do you. He wants to see corruption weeded out from the Cerberus Assembly and perhaps the Empire and maybe the Dynasty as well. And he wants my magic, wants to know what I know. I—I've not had a pupil like him before, your Grace. It is uncanny the way he takes to it. Of course, I've only shown him minor spells, nothing dangerous, but, as you said, I am curious. If such training would buy his loyalty, that I do not know. He doesn't seem the type to be loyal to nations, only to people."

"Astute, as always, Shadowhand. Then I task you to become one of those people."

The assignment gnawed uncomfortably at Essek's conscience before he could suppress the reaction. 

"Of course, my Queen."

"The party will be waylaid for some time as they find the remaining beacon within the Empire. This is the for the best. I need time to decide if I execute them on sight or let them plead their case."

"With respect, your Grace, murdering the human's friends will hardly ensure his loyalty."

"And your little pet is of little consequence until you can prove his use," the Empress mandated, "I advise you work quickly to align him. His wishes shall not influence my actions in the best interests of my nation."

"Yes, my Grace, I understand."

Essek rose with her as she stood. 

"Be at the ready should I have need of you, Shadowhand," she dismissed him, "Until then, learn what you can from the human."


	4. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end note for **Content Warning**.

Jester's voice startled Caleb awake with its boisterous, unmodulated volume. 

"Hi Caleb, Essek says you're good, are you good? Ummmmm, I hope you're good, we're good too, we really really miss you, pleaserespondtothismessage."

It took a moment for Caleb to orient himself, noticing several unpleasant sensations all at once: sharp, pulsing pain in his back, aching dullness in his muscles, an extremely full bladder. He swiped his hair out of his face and blinked the grit out of his eyes. 

"Uh, ja, Jester, I'm good. I—Scheiße!" A tall drow was standing at the doorway, large onyx stones in their earlobes and intricate plaits in their hair. They wore an expectant, professional expression along with carefully pressed livery.

"Caleb?!" Jester's message was tinged with concern this time, "Are you okay? Did something happen? We're really freaked out, is everything okay?"

"Ja, Jester, sorry, just got started. Save your spells, okay? We can talk later if you want. I'm—I'm alright, I'm good. Don't worry."

Caleb painfully eased himself into a seated position, trying to maintain some dignity. 

"Uh hello," he addressed the drow, "may I help you with something?"

"My apologies for the intrusion, Master Widowgast. The Shadowhand requested I be nearby should you need anything when you woke. I'm Craetr, I'm the household coordinator." The voice was deep and smooth as honey.

"Right," Caleb acknowledged, "Thanks for, um, that, Craetr. Please, if you could just call me Caleb, that would be...better."

"Of course, Caleb." The drow winced like addressing a guest as such physically pained him. "How are you feeling this morning? The Shadowhand recommends you are careful with your movements."

Caleb sat up fully and managed to swing his feet out of the covers and over the side of the bed, which turned out to be floating a couple of feet in the air. 

Craetr was at Caleb's elbow at once, helping him down. 

Caleb was pleased to find he was not unsteady on his feet this morning. "Thank you," he said, "I think I should be alright, if you could just point me in the direction of the restroom?"

******

Following a bath, a clean set of his own clothes, and a rather lavish breakfast, Caleb was pleased to find that he didn't feel quite as terribly as he had anticipated. Craetr had very graciously shown him to a small library within the manor (not, he noted, Essek's personal study) and lit a fire to warm the room. While the angled slate stone bookcases were ominous to the point where he couldn't call the room cozy, with the fire, a book, Frumpkin on his lap, and endless mugs of tea ushered in and out by various staff, Caleb felt quite comfortable, notwithstanding the pain and muzzy headedness. 

Caleb found his concentration to be not quite what it normally was. He spent a few hours thumbing through tomes but his thoughts kept returning to the night prior; he couldn't quite put the story together. He remembered Jourreal filling his body with poison and holes, he remembered the catacombs and the healing but something being not quite right. He remembered feeling like he was dying—remembered watching his veins turn sick and black, and not just feeling like he was dying but being sure of it. He remembered the helpless, desperate looks on Jester's and Caduceus' faces and then...

And then he remembered waking up to Essek's impassive features. 

Jester must have contacted Essek for help, it was the only thing that made sense, but Caleb swore he could remember the poison hitting his heart, the long seconds between it's last beat and his brain losing oxygen. 

Caleb bolted to his feet, Frumpkin springing of his lap with an unimpressed little miau. 

He was dead. Caleb was sure he was dead. He felt himself lose consciousness knowing he was dying. And now he was here. Essek had brought him back to life. Essek could bring people back to life. 

Caleb felt his breaths coming fast and shallow as the enormity of what this meant fell on him. What this could mean for him. 

And then he realized he had been dead. That fell on him, too, much heavier and much more terrifying. His mind skipped back to that final moment, to the realization, the existential void. Again. Again and again he replayed it. Until he could almost feel—no, he _could_ feel it, that insidious, necrotic pain in his heart. It was back, stronger this time—he was dying all over again. He was certain of it. And here he was alone and helpless. He would die alone which was so much worse than dying with the Nein. He felt sharp, lightning zings in his finger tips. They were searing pain and convulsive tingling. Because he was dying. He dropped to his knees scrabbling at his chest, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and his heart was stopping. A figure was in the room, but his vision was telescoping. They called out, "Shadowhand!" and then there another came, closer this time. 

"Caleb," Essek, it was Essek, the voice that raised him from the dead. He'd been dead and soon he would be dead again. Essek was close, but not too close, 

"Caleb, look at me." 

The Shadowhand was crouched nearby and Caleb wanted to tell him, wanted him to know that he was dying, needed him to intervene again. Caleb swung desperate eyes in his direction. 

"I'm going to place my hand on your arm, Caleb, is that okay?"

Caleb nodded as best he could, maybe that would help, maybe Essek knew he was dying. Please let Essek know he was dying. 

"Your thoughts are running a bit ahead of you," Essek was saying, in that calm, distant way of his. He had Caleb's bicep gripped neatly in his hand, "so I need you to focus instead outside of your thoughts. Can you feel my hand?"

"It's...it's not my thoughts," Caleb gasped out, "it's not, I'm dying, it's happening again, Essek, you've got to—"

"Can you feel my hand?" Essek repeated, voice firm but kind. 

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut willing himself to focus just focus just—yes, there. A warm point of contact through his shirt. "Yes," he exhaled, barely able to hold onto the sensation. 

"Good, Caleb. And can you feel the fire? It's warm on your skin, isn't it?"

Caleb nodded. It was. 

"That's very good. Caleb, do you think you could slow your breaths a little? Can you think about doing that for me?"

"I..don't know," Caleb admitted. 

"That's okay," came the response, "It's okay if you can't, maybe try and see how you respond."

Caleb took a pained, shuddering breath inwards, it wasn't enough. "I can't, Essek, please."

"That's alright," Essek answered, his hand still holding Caleb's arm. "I'm pleased with you for trying. I would like to cast a spell to help you feel better, but I won't if you don't want me to. What do you think?"

"I, um," Caleb inhaled again, too shallow and too short, "I think that would be good, ja."

******

A moment later and Caleb was dozing in sunshine. His body perfectly warm, an endless afternoon ahead, no one waiting on him. 

"How do you feel?" 

Caleb looked over and was surprised to see he was not in a meadow after all but in a charming little library, and here was Essek. It was always nice to see Essek. 

"Hello, Essek!" He greeted the drow, warmly. 

"Hello, Caleb." Essek wasn't smiling but it _felt_ like he was smiling, He was smiling on the inside. "It's good to see that you are feeling better. Now, this spell is only temporary and soon you will come back to yourself but your emotions will be lessened and you should be more comfortable. Would you please keep focusing on your breath?" 

Caleb didn't think this feeling was temporary. He didn't think that Essek quite knew what he was talking about. But Essek liked to be the one to know everything, and Caleb wanted Essek to feel good and proud and smart, so he didn't argue. "Okay, Essek," Caleb complied, happily. 

Caleb filled his lungs with sunshine-laden air. It was such a beautiful feeling. His lungs were big and full as the moon and all that gorgeous air was zipping along the highways of his blood vessels, all for him. What a magnificent thing his body was. He breathed out. Wonderful. In. Incredible. Caleb loved being alive. 

******

Caleb's eyelids fluttered open. He was lying on his back, on a rug in Essek's library, his hands splayed against his rib cage. He could breathe. His face was wet with tears and he realized he had been crying since the panic set in. 

Essek was seated cross-legged and straight-backed beside him. "How are you feeling?" he inquired. 

Caleb raked his hands through his hair before collapsing his palms solidly to his face, "I don't know," He conceded, "Overwhelmed. Bit humiliated."

"You've done nothing to be ashamed of."

Caleb barked out a laugh. 

"At least in this room, just now." Essek amended, "A natural response to the events of last night. I shouldn't have left you, it was thoughtless of me."

"Left me?" Caleb repeated, dryly, "I don't quite give a fuck about you leaving me. I'm more concerned about you _bringing me back from the dead_ and then failing to mention it."

There was a long beat of nothing but the crackling of the fire. Frumpkin climbed up onto Caleb's chest and settled there. 

"You're right," Essek said, stiffly, "I admit that I was hoping you wouldn't remember. I put my own self protection above your safety and that was very wrong of me." 

Caleb deflated. An apology was not what he was expecting and he didn't know how to react. 

"I—ja, Essek, that was...messed up." The phrase made him think immediately of Beau and Caleb was all at once intensely lonely. He felt almost naked without the Nein, vulnerable in a viscerally upsetting way. 

"I'm sorry," Essek replied, "Can I do anything for you? Do you need help up or something to eat, perhaps?"

Caleb didn't respond, his face was flushed red from embarrassment and anger and all of it. 

"Nein. I think—I think I'd just liked to lie here with my cat, if that is alright."

Essek rose gracefully until he was hovering a few inches off the ground. "Certainly. I'll be in my study if you would like to discuss this, or anything else. I am at your leisure."

Caleb hummed an acknowledgment and turned his face toward the fire, exhausted to his core. 

Frumpkin purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: PTSD, panic attack**
> 
> So much gratitude to kudos-givers/leavers-of-comments. <3


	5. Escalation

Essek was sifting through various pieces of intelligence that he had received throughout the day, extracting the potential threats from exaggerated gossip. Thankfully, news was brief. The retreat from Rexxentrum on the Bright Queen's command left parties on both sides a bit uncertain as to how to proceed. Planning for peace was very different from planning for war. Nevertheless, with the rumours of the worth of the beacon spreading, enterprising mercenary groups were springing up, ready to hunt. Most would come to nothing but Essek put ears out for the most capable of the sell-swords. 

And now Essek also had to sort out this whole fray with the cultists. If there was a Dynasty connection, he would need to determine the root of that particular corruption and he was a bit perturbed that he hadn't drawn any conclusions sooner. Was someone else whispering in the Empress' ear? He was not foolish enough to suppose he was her only confidante on matters of security. 

The Bright Queen's fervor for the Luxon had admittedly intensified over the last decades. What had started out as a spiritual paradigm was now taught as indisputable fact. Essek's skepticism was perhaps his greatest secret. He knew the beacons were objects of great power and that many claimed new and wonderous things when gazing upon them. And yet—it was rather too convenient that the Bright Queen should assert herself as Umavi. Essek knew his history, he knew the abuses of power that followed where self-proclaimed god-kings and queens reigned. Even trusted advisors risked their necks questioning the actions of a perfect being. He would have to get more unseen eyes on the Skysybil. Her and the Empress' religious dedication heightened when in each other's company. 

Essek sighed. He couldn't commit such treasonous thoughts to paper. Having them in his own mind was dangerous enough. He trusted the Bright Queen's motives of conversion were true but he was not entirely convinced that devotion and the welfare of the kingdom were one and the same. 

The alternative, Essek forced himself to confront, was his own jealousy. He could not entirely discount the notion that his lack on consecution pulled at his pride, made him envious of those who had whole lives' worth of knowledge that remained out of his reach. Maybe his own arrogance was blinding him to the one truth that was the Luxon. Essek squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger, willing for clarity to come. He wished he could analyze this aloud, get the insight of others, but such a conversation would result in surveillance at best and execution at worst. 

"Forgive me, Shadowhand, is this a bad time?" 

Essek dropped his hand away from his face to see Caleb at his door, the orange cat weaving around his ankles. 

"Quite the opposite," Essek responded, "I was just yearning for some shrewd company. Please, come in."

"Well, I'm not certain about shrewd," Caleb deflected, shutting the door to the study and taking a seat (gingerly, Essek noted) across the table, "but I am, at least, some company."

"A shrewd man depreciates his strengths, especially to foreign agents," Essek refuted with a soft smile. 

"Some have called me clever," Caleb allowed, "but there are many clever folk."

"That there are," Essek agreed as Frumpkin leapt onto the desk's surface, investigating Essek's fountain pen. Essek offered a hand and Frumpkin gave it an exploratory sniff. The little orange beast showed none of his master's caution and within a minute was purring happily while Essek scratched under his chin.

"He's usually hesitant of strangers," Caleb remarked and Essek knew it instantly to be a lie. Interesting. The human was trying to flatter him. 

"Seems very friendly to me," Essek observed, "Forgive me for asking, as I'm sure you tire of it, but how are you feeling?"

Caleb exhaled heavily and folded his hands on the desk, "Recovered except for perhaps my pride."

"And as I said before, you have nothing to be self-conscious of in that regard. I would be more concerned if you had no reaction upon such a realization. I must apologize again for my neglect." Essek paused then reached out, curling his hand around the outside of Caleb's wrist to rest his fingers on the inner pulse point, "May I?".

He observed Caleb's barely perceptible flinch, the hitch in his breath, the pink flush of his cheeks. Caleb unclasped his hands and exposed his palm, granting permission. 

"A bit quick," Essek remarked, "are you feeling nervous?"

"No," Caleb responded quickly, another lie, "Maybe just the after effects of reincarnation." He gave a wry, weary smile.

"Mm, perhaps," Essek let his two fingers stroke across the inner plane of Caleb's wrist, hearing that lovely hitch again, before withdrawing his touch. "How are your wounds?"

"They ache a bit," a third lie, "nothing serious."

"Would you like me to examine them? I'm not a specialized healer but I know enough to know when something's not right."

Caleb shook his head, "I think I'm alright, _danke_."

"You will come to me if the pain isn't lessened tomorrow?" The words were half question, half command. 

"Certainly." 

Frumpkin nuzzled into Essek's hand, demanding attention. Essek acquiesced, and allowed the silence to linger, waiting for Caleb to show his hand. 

"Shadowhand," Caleb began, formally.

"Essek." A correction.

"Essek," Caleb tried again, "I now owe you more favours than I could possibly repay, and yet I find myself once again at your door, hungry for what you can teach me."

The human was choosing his words with agonizing care, the innuendo deliberate. Very interesting. 

"And what more should you like to learn?" Essek inquired, matching Caleb's hushed and loaded tones. 

"Everything," Caleb breathed, "but more specifically, the spell you did last night, spells that alter the past, make living the dead."

Essek's held Caleb's haunted gaze for a long moment. Unfamiliar tenderness osmosing through his veins, Essek thought of the scars marring Caleb's forearms, and his failed, desperate attempt to redeem that captured Scourger. Essek couldn't bear the earnest, tenuous hope hidden in Caleb's words. He rose and drifted over to a narrow window which overlooked the ever-darkness of Rosohna. 

"I forget how young you are." He spoke to the heavy glass, "But young as you are, I know you are not wholly naïve. I know if you think rationally, you must know that the power you seek does not exist, and nor would you wish it to." 

Caleb sprung from his chair, striding across the study, confronting him "It does, you did it, I was _dead_ , Essek, I was dead and you brought me back."

"Oh, my dear," Essek whispered, sorrowfully. He reached out—it was a reckless gesture but he couldn't fight it, didn't want to—fingertips feather light against the flushed and pleading face of the young wizard, "I altered the fate of one, recently dead creature. I brought you back before your loss had time to largely alter the course of history. All powers have limits. I could teach you that spell, and everything I know besides, and I still could not give you even a fraction of what you ask. If such a terrible gift exists, then we are all mere playthings in the mind of a god, Caleb, you must see that."

"You're lying," Caleb protested, his own hand flying up to grasp Essek's wrist without pulling it away, "I'll find it, with or without your help. I know it's out there and I will unearth it—I will, I must. I need to...need to fix what I did." His voice was reedy, taut with distress. 

Essek pressed his palm flush against Caleb's skin, thumb skimming the narrow ridge of his cheekbone, "I don't know what hurt you wish to undo but I know the weight of it shrouds you in grief. It pains me to see it. If I could lighten that burden for you, please believe that I would."

"Please, Essek," Caleb murmured, eyes searching, all his pretenses scattered. 

Essek watched helplessly as Caleb crumbled. He caved in on himself with a wretched, choking sob. Essek gathered the human against his chest wordlessly, holding him as he shuddered through roiling waves of emotion. He stroked Caleb's hair, slow and soft, until the shaking subsided. The intimacy clawed at Essek's conscience. Manipulation through flattery, flirtation, and secrets were his arena, not this beautiful terrorized exposed nerve of a man coming to pieces in his arms. Nevertheless, that calculating part of him wondered if this outpouring would serve to endear him to Caleb, or ultimately to alienate him. 

Caleb peeled his blotchy face from Essek's cloak and dropped the fistfuls of fabric to which he had been clinging and looked up at Essek with an expression of exhausted misery. 

Essek once again took the man's face in his hands, and was smoothing away the worry lines around his lips when Caleb kissed him. 

It was an uncompromising kiss, impetuous and violent in its need. Essek's whole self ached for the man, for his grief and for his suffering and also because he wanted him. Fiercely, he wanted him. Essek's hands shifted, one wound in the hair at the base of Caleb's skull and the other on the back of his neck, anchoring him, returning the kiss every bit as ferociously. Caleb made a feral sound, deep and desperate, leaning in impossibly closer. It took all of Essek's considerable resolve to slow the kiss and pull back. He pressed his lips to Caleb's forehead, then his cheekbone. 

"Perhaps we should continue this on a less emotionally trying day, hm?" Essek asked, bringing Caleb's fingers to his mouth to kiss those, too. He wanted to ensure that Caleb didn't see this as a rejection, "I don't want to give you cause for regret."

Caleb hid his face in Essek's neck for a moment, " _Ja_ , maybe that's a good idea," he agreed quietly, "I'm sorry—"

"I'm not," Essek cut Caleb off, "not at all." He pressed his cheek to Caleb's temple. "There is nothing I would like more than to take you to my bed and then take you apart. But not if you might regret it. After all, I am still Shadowhand to the Bright Queen and you are still officially a potential double agent. We could easily...complicate things." He kissed the space in front of Caleb's ear. "For now, let me take you to your own bed so you can get some rest."

******

Caleb didn't speak as Essek led him down the hall. There were hand-in-hand like schoolyard crushes, the small cat padding along behind them. Essek found the human's warm skin on his reassuring. Unsummoned, an image of Caleb's corpse—veins blacked and hardened, face vacant—flashed in Essek's mind. He must have shuddered because Caleb took note: 

"Are you okay?"

Essek squeezed his hand as they rounded the corner and entered Caleb's room, "Yes, I'm very well. I'm just...I'm pleased you're alive." 

"Ha," Caleb replied, "then that makes two of us." Caleb dropped his hand, "Thank you. You didn't really need to escort me back here. I'm not that fragile." 

"It was entirely self-serving, I assure you." Essek replied, leaning in to kiss Caleb just once more. He turned to leave when Caleb's soft voice stopped him. 

"Essek, I'm..." Caleb's gaze dropped and his cheekbones burned pink again, "I'm unaccustomed to sleeping alone. In our travels we...we tend to, uh, cluster." Essek was surprised to detect a hint of re-emerging disingenuousness to Caleb's tone. He had thought they had put those games aside and yet here was Caleb making another attempt at manipulation. Fascinating. Essek was a bit impressed at the perseverance and the audacity, although he was curious about the human's motives. Essek had been very clear that he didn't have the particular brand of magic that Caleb so ardently sought. 

"Would you like me to stay the night?" He asked. 

Caleb's face burnt brighter. It was compelling. That blush was not a trained response so far as Essek could tell—the man was honestly reacting to some real emotion of shyness or embarrassment. 

"I would like that, yes," Caleb was saying, "I mean, if you wouldn't mind."

"Would you really?" Essek kept his eyes trained on Caleb's expression for any hint of deception. 

But Caleb's eyes only darkened and his hands went to Essek's waist, pulling him in for a kiss, " _Ja_ , Essek, really." His voice was steady and sure, "Stay. Please." 

******

Essek left Caleb to ready himself for sleep, promising to return upon finishing up the rest of his work and changing into his nightwear. His mind was bursting with possibilities. What did the man want? Inviting Essek to spend the night with him seemed excessive if all Caleb was after was a few magic lessons. What did others usually deal in? Wealth, power, secrets, station. He couldn't see Caleb as particularly inclined to any of those. And yet, Caleb plainly also wanted Essek's company. Essek couldn't believe he was wholly flattering himself on that point. The attraction, the need, that had been real, he'd swear to it. Maybe, like Essek himself, Caleb's true desires and his cerebral motives were getting all twisted up together. 

Essek left message with Craetr that neither he nor Caleb were to be disturbed and hurried back to the guest quarters. 

******

Caleb stirred briefly with the opening of the door, but otherwise appeared to be sleeping. He was stripped down to his undershirt and gods, he was beautiful. Essek slipped under the covers beside him. 

"'Sek?" 

"Yes, dear heart, go back to sleep." Essek murmured.

Instead, Caleb turned and planted his face on Essek's chest, snaking an arm over his hips. Essek followed suit, curling his arm over Caleb's shoulders and tucking his fingers into the other man's hair, gently massaging his scalp. He put off his trance until Caleb's breaths deepened and evened, indicating sleep. 

Gods, even with his eyes wide open, he was every bit as careless, stupid, and sentimental as the Bright Queen feared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to those of you reading, kudos-ing, and commenting. I read the comments like one million times each!


	6. Risk

Caleb had a nightmare. Not an entirely unusual experience for him but the theme of this one was different. Instead of fire, it was the Inevitable End materializing from the floor and infecting his blood with poison, the pain splintering his heart and ending his life. He woke up in a cold sweat, Essek's breaths steady beneath him and Frumpkin curled at the foot of the bed. Caleb sat up.

He was surprised that the drow had come to bed with him. The inciting comment had been a flirtation, something to put Essek on unsteady ground and remind him that Caleb wasn't totally without guile. Caleb had intended only to cause a crack in that unflappable exterior. He had expected a polite rejection, for the intimacy of a whole night wrapped up together to give Essek pause. Instead, Essek pressed him on it and Caleb had to confront that he'd also been asking for himself. Caleb had no choice now but to admit that Essek's stoic presence and patience and even his imperious, archaic diminutives gave Caleb a feeling of security he had not known since childhood. It was an illusion, he knew it must be. He was half a traitor in the heart of enemy territory but, gods, it was an illusion he wanted to hold for just a little while more. Caleb looked down at the faint outline of the intimidatingly handsome man. Thought about how he had kissed him just because he needed something tangible to cling to while all his hopes were dashed. Caleb bit his lip, thinking about how Essek had kissed him back, had wanted him, had promised to _take him apart_.

Gods, the Nein would have some remarks if they saw him now: in bed with the Shadowhand of the Dynasty. Beau especially would have something crass enough to make Caleb blush. He winced at the thought—much better that they don't know.

He wondered if they had any success tracking down Jourrael. His hopes weren't high. He had a great deal of faith in the Nein but the Caedogeist was smoke and water. The seven of them together, along with Pumat—a talented caster in his own right—had scarcely been able to land a blow. Pumat, Caleb's chest ached, he hoped the firbolg had survived, somehow.

The wounds in his back throbbed. He'd downplayed the pain to Essek, disdaining another overt display of weakness. Not that it had helped: minutes later and he had been disconsolate in Essek's arms. The pain was amplified now, throbbing with every heartbeat. What if Jourrael could track her poison? Caleb froze, the idea reaching cold roots inside his chest. Gods, he'd been so busy losing his _verdammt_ mind yesterday that he had forgotten about the very real world dangers. Like the fact that Jourrael could find him _here_. She was the most dangers assassin he could imagine, more elusive than even the _Vollstrecker_ and he'd lead her straight to the only person who might be able to help him infiltrate the Assembly.

He cast Dancing Lights, a small amber orb appearing above the bed. Essek blinked awake beneath him.

"Caleb?" the drow asked, adding his own larger orb of light, "is everything alright? You're perspiring, are you unwell?"

"No," hissed Caleb, adrenaline now singing through his blood. He sensed it was the middle of the night but he was wide awake and thrumming. "How safe is this place?" he demanded, "What safeguards do you have?" He scrambled out of his undershirt and half-turned to expose his back to Essek. "Do these look like they are healing? Can assassins track their poison? Is Pumat alive? I need to talk to Jester."

"What you need, is to slow down," Essek corrected, his voice still thick with sleep. He reached a palm out to touch Caleb's forehead but Caleb batted it away before it could get close. He was tired of being the patient.

"What if I've led her here? What if she comes for me again?"

"Darling, stop," Essek insisted, resting an irritatingly soothing hand on Caleb's forearm, "I will endeavor to answer your questions but you have to give them to me one at a time. Who are you talking about?"

"Jourrael. The Caedogeist. The woman who killed me." Caleb said, feeling the frantic anxiety rise. His orb blinked out and he recast it.

"Oh!" Essek sat up fully now, "Oh gods, Caleb. With the events of the day I quite forgot to update you. Jester informed me that Jourrael was somehow under Obann's control, and with Obann dead at the hands of the Nein, I don't believe she would have reason to pursue you or your friends any longer. My apologies for not disclosing that earlier, I'm sorry to have caused you more distress."

"Is that true? Do you know that is the truth?" Caleb's orb went out again and he reflexively recast.

"My orb will last, you don't need to keep doing that," Essek said gently.

"I'm perfectly capable!" Caleb spit out, then blushed, embarrassed. Essek's words about Jourrael did cause him some relief and he felt the frenetic energy dissipate. Nevertheless, his lack of emotional control was...concerning. "I'm sorry, Essek," Caleb continued carefully, "I'm still adjusting to letting others care for me. It is not something I have a lot of practice with."

"You are one of the most capable people I have ever known," Essek replied, solemnly, and Caleb half wondered if he was being flattered, "Learning to depend on others is a skill and certainly not one I have cultivated, so I understand your impulse. I apologize if I was patronizing."

Caleb let out a shaky laugh, "Condescension is part of your appeal."

Essek smirked, "Oh?"

Caleb flushed a brilliant fuchsia, " _Nein_ , I didn't mean, I—" Caleb collapsed his face into his palms. "Can I talk to Jester, please? Will you message her? I would like some reassurance. And if you could also check the dagger marks. Please. I'm think maybe I am being paranoid but it would put my mind at ease."

"Of course," Essek said, letting it go. As much fun as it was making the young wizard squirm, he could sense the authenticity of Caleb's anxiety. "Turn for me?"

Obediently, Caleb turned away. Essek's fingers were warm and light on his back as he skirted the edges of the healing wounds. "I don't see any signs of infection," Essek concluded, "but if you are worried, we can contact a healer tomorrow. Her weapons went deep and I suspect they will just take time."

Caleb nodded, satisfied, "Thank you. And Jester?" He turned back to face Essek on the bed.

"Anything specific you would like me to ask? Or just tell her to message you?"

Caleb raked a hand through his hair. "She can be a bit difficult to corral."

Essek snorted at the understatement.

"Okay, yes, alright," Caleb conceded, "Specifics would help. Ask her to message me and clarify what she said about Jourrael and if they think she is a threat, and also ask if Pumat is okay."

"Pumat?" Essek echoed the pronunciation to ensure he had it correct. Caleb nodded, then impulsively reached out to lace his fingers with Essek's because he could, because Essek seemed to like his touch and because Caleb was already starting to crave touch in return.

"Hello, Jester," Essek began, giving Caleb's fingers an acknowledging squeeze, "Please contact Caleb and tell him what you told me about Obann and Jourrael. Also please let him know the status of Pumat."

"Whoa, isn't it like the middle of the night for you guys? Is Caleb okay? Pumat is good! I'll tell Caleb. Okay, bye Essek, miss—!"

"She says Pumat is "good" and she'll message you," Essek interpreted. Caleb felt a wave of relief, then fondness as Jester burst into his brain.

"Hi Caleb! We all miss you so much! So, we killed Obann and set Jourrael free. Really don't think she is after us any more."

She came in with a follow up before Caleb had a chance to reply, "Pumat's good! He went home to Zadash. We are following leads on the beacon now, until Travelercon. Are you coming back? We miss you!"

"Thank you, Jester. That is all good news. I'm much better but my wounds are still healing. I miss you all, also."

Caleb exhaled with relief. "Thank you, Essek. I'm sorry for being so obtrusive. I was concerned I had put you in danger, or that I was in more danger myself."

"A Sending spell is hardly an obtrusion," Essek objected kindly, "Especially when it was my forgetfulness that caused you to worry in the first place. Jester did notice the time, however, so she might have some questions when she sees you next."

"To Jester, the whole world is a romance novel waiting to happen." Caleb grinned at the thought, "No one else will think anything of it."

Essek sank back against the pillows, pulling Caleb with him. "Interesting company you keep," Essek remarked, kissing the top of Caleb's head.

"Mm," Caleb agreed, settling in against Essek's chest, as the drow dismissed both floating orbs, "My strange little family."

******

Caleb next awoke to Essek gently carding through his hair. He must have turned over in the night, as he was now on his side, back to Essek.

"Good morning," Essek murmured, propped up on an elbow and leaning towards him, "I must get to the Bastion and convene with the Empress. You can sleep as you wish or rise now. Either way, I'll ensure breakfast is prepared for you."

"I can sort something out," Caleb offered.

"I've no doubt you could," Essek replied, dipping in to kiss Caleb's neck, "but I'd rather you indulge me. I very much enjoy knowing you are cared for."

Essek's lips and words made Caleb ache, carving a thoroughfare to his groin. He rolled onto his back, letting Essek appreciate the ramifications of his actions.

Essek groaned and pressed his face to Caleb's bare chest, peppering his clavicles with kisses. "Later, I will take care of that, too," Essek promised, "when I have time to do a proper job of it."

"I don't need a proper job," Caleb argued, "please, Essek, just—"

Essek's hand crept over Caleb's skin, coming to rest on Caleb's lower abdomen, just a hair too high, "You'll wait," Essek dictated, "You'll wait knowing how much it thrills me thinking of you all eager and denied."

Caleb rolled his hips, wanton and whining with need.

Essek only chuckled and kissed him.

"I have something that will make the wait somewhat more bearable," Essek offered, reaching out the suspended bedside tray and then pressing a small object into Caleb's hand. "This is the key to my study. Explore at your will. Tonight, you can show me what you've learned or ask me any questions."

Caleb stared at the Shadowhand in wonder, a confused mess of arousal and academic exhilaration.

"Are you certain that you trust me with this?" Caleb whispered.

"Not at all," Essek replied, casually, "I've removed anything I think could be truly dangerous. But I've seen what you are, and the promise of your potential—if I don't teach you, Caleb, someone else will. They will try to weaponize you, as they have tried before," he trailed his fingers over Caleb's scars. "I won't pretend I don't want you working for the good of the Dynasty, my people and my home, but more importantly, I want you working for good. You...intrigue me. I've come to accept some level of corruption and injustice as matter of course but you have reminded me there is another way. I may have need of that idealism in the days to come. And when I am ready to call in those favours, I want to know I've availed myself to your best advantage."

Caleb swallowed, his mouth dry with shock, "If I truly cannot change the past then I wish to fight for the innocent, to secure a peaceful future for Nott's child, for our friends both here and in the Empire."

"And I yearn to see that with you, no matter the breadth of my doubts." Essek kissed him again, and was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and double thanks to those who commented, wow, I just appreciate you so much!


	7. Suspicion

"Report, Shadowhand, if you will," came the Empresses' command.

The necessary precautions cast, Essek steepled his fingers and addressed the den leaders. 

"The time for peace draws near. The Empire seeks to return a beacon to us and the Bright Queen in her infinite wisdom will parlay with their delegation. Today her Grace hears from you, her chosen denizens, to witness your concerns prior to determining the peace sacrifice she will request from the Empire."

The was the official purpose of the meeting. The covert purpose was to give Essek a chance to examine the demeanor and reaction of those present, to see if he could not uncover a link to Tharizdun and the chaos unleashed on both sides of the conflict. 

Essek's own den leader, Jakobi Thelyss, an ancient and shrewd drow male spoke first, his voice creaking like old wood, "It is sage to end a conflict when one holds the spoils. Should the Empire return what we seek, end the war and demand large, annual reparations. Turn their attention to their own economic struggles and ensure our Queen's superior position."

The response was typical to the point where Essek could have written it himself. His den father always upheld a classic stance on warfare: namely, economic. Essek didn't detect any deceit from Jakobi. The old fellow lived for comfort and stability and his request aligned with those motives. Should political upset be coming from den Thelyss, it wasn't being siphoned through its head. 

"Where is your dedication to the cause of the Luxon!" The Skysybil objected, her own aged voice high pitched and accusatory, "We march not just to put down the bloodthirsty Dwendalians but to bring them hope of continued life! How can we sit idly by knowing the Luxon is unseen and unrespected in the Empire! We must demand religious introduction and an opportunity to recruit talent and wisdom to our dens!"

Essek spent this outburst observing not only Abrianna but also the Empress. He didn't like the way her Grace's eyes shone with the words. He had not known her to be so fervent in decades past. 

Lady Olios seemed to share some of Essek's concerns, for she spoke next, her words judicious: "Please do not think I disparage the Luxon, Skysybil," she began, "and I long to see its followers swell but we have much to do at home. Our young minds need schooling and careful introduction to our ways. Our hinterlands need security and patrol so we can harness the resources and home our peoples. We have ample talent within our borders if only we could hone it. Conversion by force rarely succeeds, whereas conversion by example is a compelling argument."

Essek expected to see a measured nod from the Bright Queen and yet she still gazed into an unseen distance, beholding glories beyond her grasp. 

Sunbreaker Ulumon, seemingly oblivious to his Queen's distraction, countered Lady Olios' thoughtful contention: "I say march on. A few months, maybe more, and the Empire will fall. Think of the spoils and the triumph. The populace will bow to our ways after a full display of our might. We need Empire bodies for our mines and our crops."

"And is the Dynasty to degrade itself to a slave state?" Lady Olios fired back, voice tight with displeasure, "have our collective centuries of experience taught us no respect for personal dignity?"

"What care I for the scum of the Empire!" Ulumon countered. 

The meeting dissolved into small pockets of conversation: the economic argument for seizing the empire, a suitable price to pay, if instead of reparations, the old tradition of noble hostages carried any sway. Essek refocused the room and they heard from the remaining den leaders, until another heated dispute erupted, this time on the rising price of game in wartime.

The Bright Queen raised a slender palm, "Enough. I thank you all for your input. You have given us much to consider. Please submit your formal, written recommendations to the Shadowhand once you have discussed the course forward among your dens. I value your counsel."

"It is nothing," came the practiced reply, and the den leaders stood. 

"May the Luxon go with you."

"And also with you, my Grace," responded the den leaders.

"Shadowhand, a word," Leylas Kryn requested. 

Essek nodded his compliance and remained. 

Once the others had departed and the doors were closed and magically secured, the Empress motioned for him to sit. 

"You observations, Essek?" Requested the Queen. 

"I sensed no open deceit, your Grace. The den leaders spoke their motives plainly." Essek reported, wishing it was not suicide to approach the issue of zealotry with a mounting zealot. 

"Mm," agreed the Empress, "nor did I. And you, Shadowhand, where does your opinion lie?"

"I would not flatter myself," Essek objected, "I am no den leader, nor have I lifetimes of wisdom. My counsel would surely fall short, my Queen."

"I asked for your judgment and not your modesty," came the arch reply. 

"Apologies, your Grace. I...," Essek paused thoughtfully, "I do not see how further bloodshed can serve the Dynasty but if total victory is your desire, it is not entirely out of our grasp. The Empire cannot yet deter our Dunemantic forces but our practitioners are few and it takes a great deal of time to train them. Finding adept pupils has not shown to be easy. We also know that Empire has began to unlock our efforts in that arena. They have access to the services of many formidable mages. Many of these mages value balance. They will work to establish that, although what they perceive to be the crux of balance I am not sure. We cannot be assured of our success. I tend to align more with the leader of my den and with Lady Olios. Work first to stabilize the nation before seeking to expand. I am still a mere mortal, however, your Grace. Your own memory stretches to the times of Divine Warfare and the agony it wrought. Only you can determine if the means fit the end." 

The distant look had reappeared on the Bright Queen's features. "The Luxon must be known," she murmured. 

Essek's jaw set. This was not his Queen, not quite. He knew that now. 

But then, with a quick shake of her head, she was back, her eyes sharp and alert, "Tell me, Shadowhand, how fares the human? Is he the rarity for which you longed?"

Essek, to his horror, almost blushed. He managed to quell the reaction, however, and replied with practice nonchalance, "He has not been well, so it is difficult to say. I have conducted a little experiment today, however, so we shall see how he manages." 

"You should have said. Please recruit a palace healer to your aid."

"Thank you, your Grace."

"It is nothing." The Bright Queen paused and gave Essek a knowing look, "And what do you conceal from me, Shadowhand?"

Essek did not allow himself to be rattled, "You may have been correct about the perils of a handsome face," he admitted, "but the human's need for...tender feelings makes him susceptible. It is a weakness I can exploit." 

The Empress' eyes bore through him, "And enjoy doing so, I would imagine," she remarked at last, "Very well, Essek. Do not lose sight of your allegiances."

******

Essek teleported home. He was aware that it was not strictly necessary but after an infuriating afternoon with an eager but useless young commander, he was frustrated. How was he supposed to train the future military leaders if the Dynasty's best and brightest couldn't hold a candle to the young wizard currently occupying his study?

Having arranged a visit from the healer for the evening and dinner to be served for Caleb and himself, Essek drifted up the stairs. He paused at the doorway of the study, admiring Caleb in all his disheveled glory. Dark tendrils of deep red hair trailed down from a hasty bun at the nape of Caleb's neck. His fingers were stained with ink and there was a dark splotch of the liquid on his cheek as well. A massive pile of tomes teetered on the desk beside him with Frumpkin perched atop the stack and Caleb's bright eyes flew over the page of his current book, scribbling little notes as he went. 

He was breathtaking. 

"Good evening, my dear," Essek broke Caleb's reverie. 

Caleb's eyes shot up from his reading material, his features intense, "Essek," he greeted the drow, "The hours flew."

"Quite," Essek floated over and was pleased when Caleb tilted his face up for the kiss Essek happily bestowed. "You look as though you have had a productive day."

Caleb's face was alive with intelligence, "I cannot begin to thank you for this gift," he stated solemnly, as Essek licked his thumb and scrubbed at the ink stain above his jaw, "Your notes," Caleb continued breathlessly, "they are meticulous and these spellbooks—I feel I've lived a thousand years in a day." 

"Hm," Essek acknowledged, satisfied. He couldn't resist kissing Caleb again. The man was so resplendent in his abstraction. "Have you eaten?"

" _Nein_ ," Caleb shook his head, "I admit I got a bit absorbed."

"You need to nourish the body as well as the mind," Essek chided, "I've had dinner prepared, come." 

Essek was halfway to the door when Caleb's hand encircled his wrist, stopping him. Essek turned in surprise and then Caleb's palm was at his jaw, lips at his neck and Essek was on fire. 

"Thank you, Essek," Caleb's voice was hoarse, gratitude and lust all bound up together and what Essek wouldn't do to keep him, just like this.

******

They reconvened in the study after the palace healer had evaluated Caleb's wounds, seemingly satisfied with their progress.

" _Meine Götter_ , Essek," Caleb exclaimed, voice still hushed, when the two were finally alone. "Summoning meteors? Halting time? Multidimensional travel? Is there an area in which you have not experimented?"

Essek allowed himself a slow smile. It was not often his work was truly seen and appreciated for what it was. It was beyond the scope of understanding for most. 

"Myriads, I'm sure," he replied, "with any luck, I will study for lifetimes."

"It's incredible," Caleb breathed, shuffling through his pages of notes with excitement, "your work. Even at the Academy I didn't encounter power like this."

Essek lowered himself into a cushioned barrel-backed chair, relishing Caleb's effusiveness and uncharacteristic ease. He crossed an ankle over his knee. 

"Tell me about the Academy," Essek prompted, "you claimed when I met you that you were self-taught."

Caleb's face darkened and his movements slowed. 

"I wasn't taught at the Academy," he said softly, his Zemnian accent clipping through the consonants, "I was experimented upon, controlled. You saw what they tried to turn me into. A mindless militant, a machine." Hair slipped out of his bun and covered his face. He didn't move it and he didn't look at Essek. 

"You must have been strong to escape all that," Essek offered softly. 

Caleb made an ugly sound, a dry bark that was more snarl than laugh, "It wasn't my strength that saved me, it was my weakness."

"What do you mean?" 

Caleb turned away, paced the length of the study, collapsed into a chair beside and angled towards Essek's. His elbows rested on his knee and for a long moment he held his head in his hands. When he finally raised his face, it was drawn, the brief moment of ease from earlier well passed. "There are things..." Caleb started, barely more than a whisper, "There are things that I don't want you to know about me. I worry when I tell you these things, you will regret sharing your knowledge, will think I cannot be trusted with power and perhaps you are right."

Essek reached a hand over and placed it on top of Caleb's, "I cannot know the things you've done, Caleb, but I can promise that I think of you only in terms of the man you are. I've known you only a short time but I know you to be courageous, loyal, brilliant and dedicated to the greater good. Your past cannot change who you are now, just as who you are now cannot change your past."

"There was a test," Caleb muttered, "to see if we were the good little soldiers the Empire required. They planted false memories in our heads of our families betraying the Crown. Not even betraying it, not really, just questioning it. So we murdered them. Mine with fire. I locked them in—my sweet, harmless parents who wouldn't know political dissent from a dinner party, my parents who spent every gold piece they ever made on me, who were so endlessly proud of their bright boy—I locked them in and burned them alive." Caleb's eyes were shrouded and defeated as he continued, "And I broke. And I stayed broken. For eleven years, I was just another addled beggar raving in an asylum. So maybe you would be right, right to deny me this when I fall apart so easily. Even now, I know I should join my friends in Rexxentrum but terror keeps me away."

"Terror of what?" 

"Him. Ikithon."

"Archmage Ikithon?" Essek clarified and Caleb nodded.

"A madman and a sadist. It wasn't just my parents I murdered, Essek. There were countless others, I didn't even question it. I killed them to save my own hide, to escape the torment that would befall me if I didn't. Torture, execution, it became all the same to me. Violence became my very nature." Caleb exhaled a long, rattling breath, "I cannot go back," he vowed, "I would die rather than return to his clutches. And so I've left my friends, virtual traitors to the Empire, vulnerable and exposed and in Ikithon's very city. Yet every time I think of going to them, my chest explodes in panic and I'm sure I'll die before reaching them. Maybe you have something for that, Shadowhand, something to make me brave."

Essek curled his hand more tightly around Caleb's and squeezed. 

"I am a powerful man," Essek spoke slowly, "and in my second century. There are many things I've seen, many things I've done, some that I am proud of, some less so. For the most part, however, I've used my cleverness as a shield. Oh, I'm capable enough should I have to be, but I have always chosen the theoretical battlefield over the real one. I like my creature comforts and my studies. I like working for the Queen because of the access it permits me, the budget, the lifestyle, even, I admit, the title and the privilege. I'm a clever man, Caleb, but I am not a brave one. I'm not even a particularly violent one, which is unusual in this bloody world. But if Trent Ikithon makes a single move to harm you, in any respect, in any situation, I will tear his vertebrae through his throat without hesitation." 

Caleb blinked, his eyes wet but he wasn't crying. He gave Essek a weak smile, " _Danke_."

Essek rose and reached out a hand to Caleb, who took it. Essek hoisted the young wizard to his feet and then into his arms where he held him. An unfamiliar instinct welled in Essek, fierce and protective. He kissed Caleb's ear. 

"I cannot make you brave," Essek explained, "because you already are. What I suspect I can concoct, however, is a fail safe escape to bring you back to me should you need it. One that can be activated without words or movement. Let me think about it for a day or two but I am quite certain it is possible." He pulled back a bit to look Caleb in the eyes, still gripping his upper arms, "What do you think, dearest, might that ease your mind somewhat?"

"How would it work?" Caleb asked, curiously.

"Mm, I'll give you an incantation to think that will activate a teleportation rune that we can tattoo somewhere. Or just draw if you prefer. I can understand if you have an aversion to more permanent marks. It would then teleport you here or your quarters or wherever else you desire where you feel safe. You would only need to be conscious."

Caleb bit his lip, eyes meeting Essek's, "You could do that?"

"Mm," Essek affirmed, drawing his hand up along Caleb's arm to rest along his jaw, "I don't see why not." 

"That would be...very good, _ja_ ," Caleb responded, mind evidently still fixated on the idea, "I think that would help me a great deal." 

Essek smiled, leaning in and nudging his nose alongside Caleb's before kissing his mouth. Caleb answered the kiss with several of his own; his mouth was hungry and persistent. It made Essek feel more powerful than all his magics combined. 

"Thank you for telling me all you did," Essek said, when the kisses slowed, "Believe me when I tell you that I think more of you now than I ever did. You really are remarkable." 

"Hn," Caleb protested, sinking his face into Essek's shoulder. 

Essek smiled and ran his hand over Caleb's hair, his shoulder and arm, his back. Anywhere within reach. He tried not to ignore the insistent sensation that he could never get his fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the very kind comments and the kudos!!


	8. A Favour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I accidentally left off a big part of the chapter last time I posted, so might want to go back to Chapter 7 if you read it before this morning (Dec. 20). 
> 
> Also this chapter got a bit smutty, **content warnings** in the end notes for those who would like to know what they are getting into beforehand. If you prefer to keep things rated T, the plot bits end and the smut begins at the ***.

"I have a favour," Essek revealed when the two were curled up in bed like so many harvest mice, limbs tangled and Caleb's head tucked in under Essek's chin. Caleb tensed reflexively. He had known the favours were coming but it still caught him a bit off guard. 

He heard Essek mutter a hasty detect magic. 

"I thought scrying wasn't possible in your home?"

"It's not," Essek assured him, "but what I ask is treason and so one cannot be too careful."

Caleb rearranged himself so he could see Essek's face. 

"You surprise me, Shadowhand," he replied, honestly. He hadn't a notion that Essek wasn't firmly adherent to the will of the Bright Queen. 

Essek exhaled, his finger tips drifting across the surface of Caleb's face, "I have told no one the suspicions I am about to reveal to you, Caleb. I know I am a fool to trust you and yet here I am. There is no one in the Dynasty with whom I can discuss these fears and I hope that is all they are—fears. But it is my duty as Shadowhand to investigate threats to the kingdom, even when those threats come at the hands of the monarch herself."

Caleb's breath caught, deep curiosity coursing through him. "What do you mean?"

"There is something...something off," Essek began carefully. Caleb was intrigued to see Essek's certainty wavering for the first time, as if he questioned his decision, "The Bright Queen has always been a religious woman but in recent years there has been an intensification. I have suspicions that someone or some enchantment is affecting her. She is an intelligent woman, sharp and insightful, but lately those qualities are overlaid with an irrational fervor that spurs her."

"I see," Caleb answered, "and forgive me, but what do you think that I can possibly achieve that you cannot?"

"I have many duties," Essek replied, "I cannot trail her in the way I need to without it quickly becoming apparent that I am neglecting my work. And I cannot ask any in the Dynasty to commit such acts for me."

"Essek, I'm hardly a convincing spy!" Caleb whispered, anxiety rising, this not a favour he could hope to repay. To his surprise, Essek laughed and kissed his nose in that patronizing way of his. 

"Oh, my heart," Essek chuckled, "that much I know. I'm not asking you to spy. What I am asking is for you to introduce me to the spy you know. The "housekeeper" your party so conspicuously arranged."

"You _know_?" Caleb hissed. 

"I'm Shadowhand of the Dynasty, darling, of course I know. Not to mention that your strange little family is also an entire party of loudmouths."

Caleb groaned, a sick sort of disappointment running through him, "But then why does Dairon walk free?!"

"It is easier to find out what someone wants by following them than by torturing them," Essek shrugged. "Curiously, your friend is...quite good. If it weren't for the Nein, I might not have identified the threat quite as easily. They have even managed to evade my surveillance from time to time. I had an inkling they might come in useful, so as such, the Bright Queen is not aware that a spy walks the streets with her Medallion to aid them. Do you know specifically what information they seek?"

Caleb shook his head, "Beau does, but I'm not entirely clear. I think they suspect some sort of alliance between the Cerberus Assembly and the Dynasty against the Empire."

"Interesting," Essek replied, "Yes, I should like to speak candidly with this Dairon. Perhaps they would be able to identify any objectionable religious influences affecting the Queen."

"There your motives might align," Caleb mused, "I can facilitate an introduction if you like, although I know Dairon doesn't trust me."

"A good spy doesn't trust anyone," Essek countered, then smiled ruefully and added, "which is perhaps why I can no longer consider myself a good spy." 

The implications of Essek's words swam through Caleb's veins and exploded like fire crackers in his chest. He tried to tell himself that Essek was simply flattering him, but there had been a flash of vulnerability there when Essek spoke of treason. Caleb could get him killed for this and they both knew it. 

"Thank you," Caleb said, voice soft, "for trusting me with that. I cannot believe that has been an easy suspicion to carry."

Essek sighed heavily and flopped onto his back, "It has not."

***

Caleb extended his arm to rest on Essek's chest where he proceeded to trace little abstract patterns. Being able to touch the Shadowhand like this, in such a devastatingly casual yet intimate way was still so novel and deeply thrilling. Essek made a little noise of contented pleasure. Caleb found he quite liked that sound, liked being able to affect the other man in such a base, physical way. He knew Essek enjoyed his intellect and it was a rush knowing he wanted Caleb this way, too. Caleb let his hand explore lower, sliding beneath Essek's smallclothes to trace the ridges of Essek's iliac crests, first the left, then the right. He heard Essek's breathing rate start to increase and, feeling emboldened by the response, Caleb sat up, and in one decisive action, swung his leg over Essek's hips to straddle him. Essek gasped sharply and Caleb reveled at feeling the hardened cock trapped between their bodies like proof. 

Caleb tilted closer and ground his hips experimentally against Essek's, watching the face below register the new sensations with parted lips and blown pupils. Essek gripped Caleb's thighs, rocking up into him. 

"Caleb..." Essek murmured and it was either a warning or a plea.

"All day you left me," Caleb accused, "riled up and _alone_."

"I thought you liked your gift," Essek responded playfully, his hands sliding purposefully over Caleb's legs. 

"I adored it," Caleb granted, "but you have to nourish the body as well as the mind."

Essek laughed at the play on his earlier words and tangled a hand in Caleb's hair, yanking him down for a heated kiss. 

"Perhaps I've denied you long enough, hm?" Essek inquired as Caleb broke the kiss to trail his mouth down the drow's neck. 

Caleb mewled, an undignified, desperate sound, his cock already straining for more than just the pressure of Essek's abdomen. 

"Such a needy little thing," Essek commented, his hands circling round to squeeze Caleb's ass. Caleb stripped off his undershirt and Essek growled in response, his hands raking down then newly exposed skin, "Off me for a moment, darling," the drow instructed, "I'm in far too many clothes." Caleb obliged, and busied himself with removing his own pants. And then Essek was over him, sliding a lean thigh between Caleb's, causing deliberate, agonizingly good friction along Caleb's cock. 

"Please, Essek," Caleb breathed, not sure what he was asking for except _more_. 

Essek paused, supporting himself with a forearm braced to the side of Caleb's head. He ran a thumb across Caleb's lower lip, kissed him, "What you said earlier," Essek inquired, "about condescension. Is that truly something that you like?"

"Are you asking permission to be an asshole to me?"

Essek smirked, sliding his fingers between their bodies and still refusing to touch Caleb's cock, "In a sense. Do I have it?"

"Yes," Caleb croaked. 

"Such obedience," Essek remarked, kissing Caleb's jaw, "Is there anything you don't like?"

"Pain," Caleb answered immediately. 

"I have no desire to hurt you," Essek purred, "and if I say or do something you don't like or are not ready for you will say "I don't like that," and I will listen. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Caleb whispered. 

"What a pleasing creature you are, Caleb," 

Caleb couldn't understand why the supercilious tone affected him the way it did. It was belittling, aggravating, and it went straight to his cock. He arched his back, pressing his erection insistently against Essek's thigh, still planted there. Much to his dismay, Essek shifted back, so Caleb was all but rutting against air. 

"If you want something, you'll use your words," Essek instructed. 

"For gods' sake, please touch me," Caleb begged.

Essek skimmed a casual fingertip over Caleb's chest, "Foolish boy, I am touching you. I have been touching you all evening." He encircled Caleb's nipple, slowly, just avoiding the nub of erectile flesh. Caleb cried out in miserable frustration. 

"My cock," Caleb choked, "Please touch my cock."

"Mm, like this?" Essek responded, allowing his thigh to press back against him. 

Caleb gave in, taking what he could get, bucking and sliding against Essek's thigh, it was so much and not nearly enough all at once. 

"Is this what you want," Essek pressed, voice amused, "to rabbit against my leg like a dumb little pet?"

Caleb felt his face redden, his cock straining mercilessly. Gods, he had never been so aroused. Essek was casually twisting Caleb's hair between his fingers, kissing his chest, his cool exterior belied only by the firm cock pressed into Caleb's hip. 

"With your hand?" Caleb pleaded. 

"Hm?" 

"Please touch my cock with your hand!" Caleb burst out, blushing harder. 

"I could, I suppose," Essek replied, "but you're being rather selfish, darling, I'm surprised at you. You haven't even offered to do anything for me."

Caleb was going to murder the man. He was aching for release, certain all it would take was one touch and yet, knew the longer he delayed it, the longer he could suspend this intense, encompassing feeling. 

"What can I do for you, Shadowhand? What do you like?" He asked, demurely. 

Essek pulled away, lying supine, an arm under his head, "I would like your mouth, tasting me, earning your pleasure."

Caleb froze, not because he didn't want to—gods, he wanted to, look at the man, how could he not—but his inexperience gave him a sudden flood of worry. 

Essek must have noticed because at once his pompous demeanor disappeared and his hand was at Caleb's cheek, "Too much? Did I lose you?"

"No!" Caleb exclaimed, frustrated that even here he seemed to need relentless care, "It's fucking infuriating but perfect at the same time and I do want to, desperately I want to, but I haven't...it's new and I want to do a good job."

"And that, my heart, is exactly what will make it good. It's you I want, not practiced skill. You're a clever man, and a man with a cock. I am sure you can piece together the basics of what would feel nice. But honestly, darling, it can wait. There's no rush for these things."

Essek's endless patience grated at him and Caleb shoved him back down on his back, "We're not fucking waiting," Caleb announced. 

The drow chuckled and placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder, while Caleb positioned himself halfway down the bed. Essek's cock was smooth and long, skin light lavender-grey like the rest of him. It was hot and hard in Caleb's hand and all at once Caleb had another heady rush of power. He did this. 

Caleb experimentally brought his mouth over the head, taking it slowly, determined not to overdo it and embarrass himself. Essek emitted a throaty, encouraging moan, stroking Caleb's hair. The sound spurred Caleb's motions and he began to work in earnest, establishing solid suction and sliding more of Essek's cock across his tongue. 

"All the gods, Caleb, you are a wonder," Essek murmured, voice rich and deep with pleasure as Caleb began to add rhythm now, enjoying the tensions playing across Essek's body, his hands tightening in Caleb's hair. Caleb experimented with depth, then, taking Essek towards his throat and bobbing back, feeling Essek thrust upward, seeking his heat. With a pained cry, Essek pulled him back, "Enough, dearest, I'll come, and I want to come with you. Come up here, kiss me, let me touch you."

Caleb kissed Essek deeply, bodies writhing together. 

"What do you think, hm?" Essek prompted when they broke for air, the provoking tone reappearing, "have I denied you long enough?"

"Deny me any longer," Caleb groused, biting into Essek's shoulder in irritation, "and I will finish things myself."

"Patience, patience," Essek laughed, but at long last, he slipped a knowing hand between their bodies, pressing their cocks flush against each other and encircling them, adding pressure. 

The days of tension, the teasing, the touches, all culminated to this and Caleb groaned roughly into Essek's mouth, hips jerking faster, gracelessly, he needed—"Oh gods, Essek—"

"Come," Essek urged, but Caleb doubted he could have stopped the tide, coming so hard it almost hurt, expelling over Essek and his hand and cock and then Essek was spending, too, with a deep sound of satisfaction. 

Caleb collapsed down on the other man, thoroughly exhausted, whole body aching with relief. Their sticky mess hot between them. Caleb knew he needed to get up, clean them off and he would, in just a minute he would. Essek was stroking the back of his neck again.

"Beautiful," Essek said, lips against Caleb's neck and Caleb didn't know why the praise warmed him like it did, why he trusted Essek's words when compliments were usually so difficult for him. He gave his thoughts up to the soft words and the reassuring caresses of Essek, and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings** : oral sex and non-penetrative sex, slight D/s dynamics, light humiliation/denial play, kink negotiation with probably less than perfect communication. 
> 
> Major shout out to kudos leavers, commenters and commenters who say "kudos". I see you, I appreciate you <3\. Thank you so so much!!!


	9. Meeting

Essek and Caleb visited the 'Xhorhaus' (Essek did not approve) the next morning. 

Dairon, appearing as a shockingly average, middle-aged, drow female, answered the door. 

"Oh, Master Caleb, what a pleasant surprise" they exclaimed, the warmth in their voice not reaching their eyes. 

"Essek?" Caleb asked, asking without saying the words if it was safe to speak. Essek nodded. 

"A chat, if you will," Caleb said, entering the house without waiting for an invitation. "Shadowhand, if perhaps you could wait here. I first want to assure our friend that you ask only a favour."

"But of course," Essek agreed. Caleb had suggested it on the walk over, insisting that cornering the spy was a dangerous move and Essek might have more success convincing Dairon to aid him if they didn't feel threatened. 

Essek braced himself at the roots of the miraculous, curious tree and meditated. 

Within a half hour, Caleb emerged, looking tired. Caleb could be quite diplomatic, Essek knew first hand, but he also suspected it wore on the man. 

"Essek, if you could join us in the war room?"

Essek quirked an eyebrow at the name. 

"Jester," Caleb stated, as if that answered the unspoken question. 

Dairon was sitting at the end of a long table. Their expression was stony and muscles contracted, as if ready to dash. Essek supposed they were. 

"I understand you have a proposition for me, Shadowhand," Dairon, it seemed, didn't waste words. 

"I do," Essek agreed, seating himself, "I require eyes on the Bright Queen. I need to know if her actions are her own or subject to outside forces."

"We are all subject to outside forces," Dairon countered. 

"You are not wrong," Essek agreed, "then I need to know to whose influence she is subject."

"I already know the answer to that one. You, Shadowhand. You have the ear of the Queen more often than any of her other advisors. She trusts you, she consults you regularly. You are risking your power and position by voicing your concerns, which is the only reason I am still sitting here. Although your motives could simply be to eliminate the Queen in order to best elevate yourself."

"I have no taste for leadership," Essek assured them, "and am very happily situated in my current position. I have no intention of removing the Bright Queen, only what I suspect may be an unnatural influence."

Essek carefully recounted the Empress' gradually increasing devotion, the minute changes in her demeanor, those distant stares, "I realize it is hardly more than a hunch," Essek concluded, "but if it there is something afoot that I could bring to light and help end this war, I should like to do it." 

"What stakes do you have in the end of the war?" Dairon demanded. 

"On a personal level? Frankly, wartime studies bore me. I do not enjoy spending valuable research time on offense and battlefield magics. I much prefer my own more theoretical endeavors. On a macroscopic view, while I think the Dynasty could win the war and gain valuable economic resources, I think that while the Kryn fixation is religious, any grasp over Dwendalians would be tenuous. Nothing makes populations revolt like banishing their gods and the Luxon is too foreign to take hold there in any meaningful way, especially if imposed by force. Our invasion would end in revolt and withdrawal after a great deal of bloodshed and suffering."

"I see," Dairon nodded curtly. "Your Queen spends a great deal of her time in prayer," they continued, "I was not aware that this was unusual behaviour, as I've also believed her to be a woman of faith."

"She is and always has been," Essek replied, "but this is a new level. If you could examine her at prayer, detect the space for something amiss, see with whom she surrounds herself at these times, it could at least provide a lead."

Dairon sat silent and emotionless for a suspended moment. Essek felt sure they were about to reject his request, instead they turned to Caleb:

"And you, Widowgast, what do you think?"

Caleb looked surprised to be addressed but after a pause, delivered a thoughtful response, "I know the Assembly is powerful and I know you suspect them in helping to incite this war. Many of them deal in magical artifacts and I wonder, could they have tampered with a beacon? When the Bright Queen merges with it, could it instead be corrupting her mind?"

Gods, Essek wanted to kiss him. His brilliant, beautiful human, piecing together a feasible narrative in the span of an hour.

"It could indeed," Dairon looked seriously at Caleb, "your suggestion has logic."

Dairon stood, "Very well, Shadowhand, I will investigate your suspicions." 

"Thank you, Dairon," Essek agreed. 

"Next time," Dairon glared daggers at Caleb, "do try to keep a person's secret identity a secret."

Caleb blushed and lowered his gaze, "My apologies, on behalf of myself and the Nein. Secrecy is not our specialty."

Dairon snorted derisively and stalked out of the room. 

"Well?" Caleb asked him, "That is a good response, _ja_?

"A good response? My dear, you may have all but solved the issue at hand," Essek shook his head and encroached upon Caleb's space, observing his unassuming eyes, "Do you really have no idea of how marvellous you are?"

"I'm, uh, I'm okay," Caleb granted, "We'll see how it goes, I could still be very wrong."

******

Essek spent the remainder of the day tweaking his teleportation spell. He hadn't been lying to Dairon about missing his passion projects. He was bored of coming up with creative ways to manipulate the battlefield. Devising a trick to get Caleb to reappear in his study just by thinking a trigger phrase was a much more intriguing task. He could also justify it as work since it could be modified and taught to Dunemantic practitioners to evade capture. Caleb was hunched over a desk, carefully transcribing Essek's modified version of Reverse Gravity, in which selected objects could be spared the effects of the spell. As a general rule, Essek disdained area spells. He preferred his magic to be precise with no extraneous effects. 

He saw Caleb close his eyes and lean back in his chair, lips moving, visualizing the spell. Essek found himself smiling and watching the younger wizard for a moment, appreciating his serious dedication and careful approach. That Ikithon had ignored Caleb's true strengths in favour of creating yet another uninspired assassin, well, the mage might be clever but he was also clearly a fool. Caleb would have been absolutely wasted as a killer. He was meant for much broader scopes. 

Caleb opened his eyes and met Essek's gaze, "Everything alright?" He asked. 

Essek couldn't find a simple way to express how pleasant the day was, how happy he was to be sharing his knowledge and his study with Caleb and how content he would be to do so indefinitely. So instead he just smiled softly, "Of course."

Caleb blushed faintly and returned to his spell. 

******

"I think I have it," Essek announced, several hours later. He mentally rehearsed the incantation and suddenly disappeared and reappeared a few feet away in the study. 

Caleb looked up from his stack of manuscripts like he was waking up from a deep sleep, not quite fully present. 

Essek repeated the spell to the same effect. Flawless. 

"Did you just—" Caleb startled, tone excited.

"Silently recite an incantation that teleported me to my own study? Yes, I rather believe I did."

Caleb rose to join him near the centre of the room, "Essek, that's excellent!"

Essek grinned, "It is, isn't it? I just had to sort out how to suspend the final execution of the spell after the components were absorbed and runes were drawn. Since a concentration spell can't just withstand a caesura like that, I've included a time stopping element. The spell doesn't register the passage of time until the incantation is spoken. In a way, the spell exists in a timeline outside of the caster themselves."

Caleb shook his head, obviously impressed, "You will have to review that with me further, I'm sure I don't understand it fully."

"You will," Essek assured him, enjoying Caleb's attentions and admiration. 

"I just hope you haven't gone to all this trouble to create a spell too complex for me to manage," Caleb mused. 

"I'm not at all concerned," Essek reaffirmed, "but I do not think we should try tonight. It has been a long day and I'd rather teach you when I have plenty of spells to fix any issues that arise."

"Thank you," Caleb said, stepping in close, "I am honoured that you would pour so much work into creating something so incredible for me."

"Not just for you," Essek replied, his knuckle slipping under Caleb's chin, his thumb pad pressed to Caleb's lower lip, "It turns out I quite like the idea of you popping in here if things go amiss."

"Oh?" Said Caleb, pressing a small kiss to Essek's thumb. 

"Indeed," Essek confirmed, "but that doesn't mean I won't accept any, hm, acts of gratitude?"

Caleb grinned and kissed him, biting into his lip playfully, before murmuring, "Come to think of it, there is a skill I have been practicing," and sinking to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the reading and extra thanks for the oh so lovely comments. Really grateful that some folks are enjoying my winter break mental escape!


	10. Practice

Caleb was just settling in for sleep with Essek curled around him when Jester popped into his head. 

"CALEB, ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ESSEK? I just talked to Dairon and they said that Essek called you "my dear". Ohmigod, you two are—"

" _Verdammt_ ," Caleb cursed, startled upright and rubbing his temples. 

"What is it?" Essek sat also, sharp concern on his features.

Caleb made a vague gesture to indicate it was nothing serious, "Just Jester," he informed the drow. 

"Uh, hello Jester," Caleb responded quietly, "I am not entirely sure what you are talking about. It is good to hear your voice, though. Are you well?"

"You better not be lying to me, Caleb. We are all fine. But we met Ikithon and man that guy is really gross. Miss you!"

"I miss you, also. But I might be seeing you soon, Essek has...maybe worked something out for me. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Everything alright?" Essek inquired, hand coming to rest on Caleb's low back. 

Caleb sighed, " _Ja_ , nothing's wrong. Dairon just overheard you and I talking today and let the Nein know things might be more than friendly between us." 

"Does that bother you?" Essek prompted.

"Uh," Caleb was thoughtful, "I'm not sure. I...I haven't been with anyone in a very long time. I consider myself a bit of a private person. I would have maybe liked to have let them know in my own time."

"I can understand that. I'm sorry for speaking so openly. I should have known Dairon would have been listening in following our conversation."

"Jester and Nott would have worked it out eventually, they are Nott the best detectives," Caleb smiled to himself. He really did miss them. 

"Hm?" Essek responded, not getting the joke.

"Nothing, just a bit of silliness. I hope tomorrow goes alright. I should like very much to help my friends." 

Essek curled in closer, sliding his palm around Caleb's side and over his hip, pressing his lips to human's shoulder blade, "How is your back?"

"Almost better," Caleb replied, savouring the touch, "just required a bit more rest than usual but it isn't bothering me any more. Is the scarring very bad?"

Essek pulled back to examine it, "Just a series of red lines. They, too, should fade. Your healers have some talent."

"They do," Caleb agreed, lying back on his side. Soon Essek was curled around him again. Caleb loved the easy way the drow touched him, casual and constant. Even that afternoon in the study, Essek had wandered over from time to time to drop a kiss on Caleb's head before resuming his work.

It had been different with Astrid. Their relationship had been bright and shiny with the sickness of their lessons, intensely sexual. Caleb had loved her, fiercely, but moments of tenderness had been sparse, as if Astrid considered such feelings were a weakness. When they'd first come together, it was as an escape but over time he'd watched her harden, only coming to him after a particularly invigorating kill. Her love had become conditional; he'd had to earn it. When he fell, it fell and she'd never looked back. 

Essek kissed the back of Caleb's neck, arm looped under his own, wrapping around his chest. Caleb interlaced his fingers with Essek's holding them against his heart. The heart that Essek had restarted, quite literally. Caleb shivered. 

"Alright?" Essek checked in. 

"I'm...I'm not good at this," Caleb started, then continued before Essek could ask clarifying questions, "I am inexperienced in a lot of ways and don't know how...being with someone works, exactly. But I want you to know that I am very grateful to you, Essek. And that I, ah, I care for you a great deal."

Essek stilled, his voice a low rumble when he finally spoke, "A very selfish part of me wants for you to fail tomorrow. Not that I think you will, it is just that now I've sorted out the spell, I want to hoard it for myself so you feel you have no choice but to remain here with me. But another part of me, and what I hope is the main part, yearns to see you vanquish your enemies and stabilize our two kingdoms and return to me without the ghosts that haunt you. I believe in you, dearest, in a way I haven't believed in anyone in a long time. And that you have let me be a little part of your journey, well, I feel very fortunate."

"What if I want you to be more than a step along the way?" Caleb breathed, scarcely believing he dared.

"Well, after tomorrow you will have unlimited, direct access to my study and I find that makes me...quite pleased."

"Essek?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"Thank you for bringing me back, for caring for me."

"Oh love, it has been my privilege."

Caleb felt his breath leave him, a rolling wave of unnamed emotion taking him under. He turned over so he could kiss Essek properly, endlessly, feeling their bodies merge and it was powerful and solid and right. Caleb had never wanted so much nor felt so wanted and for the first time in a long time, he felt he'd come home. 

******

It took the whole morning just for Essek to teach him the theory. Caleb felt dull witted and leaden next to the fantastic intellect of the drow and yet Essek's patience didn't falter. 

Caleb had apologized at least a dozen times before Essek banned the words. "You're still the brightest pupil I've had in decades," Essek assured him, "and by far the loveliest. Now keep at it. Visualize the spell, please, dearest, I know it sounds foolish but it really is the key. Trace the path of the magic like a composition, it feels right when you just find the melody."

When it clicked it was like staring into the abyss of a portal dimension. Caleb was in utter awe at the magnitude of Essek's powers, that he could unlock this mighty puzzle in an afternoon's work. 

"By the gods, how did you come up with this?" He demanded. 

"It just makes sense," Essek replied and somehow it _did_ , Caleb couldn't explain it but now he could follow it, the path was clear. "Are you ready to give it a try?"

" _Ja_ ," Caleb answered, " _Ja_ , I think so."

"I want to draw the runes somewhere not immediately noticeable, maybe under your arm, along your side?" 

"So long as I won't sweat it off," Caleb agreed. 

Essek looked horrified, "Dear heart, I'm not sending you out there with _washable ink_. I'll use magically indelible ink that can be removed with the correct solvent but is otherwise similar to a tattoo." 

"Oh," Caleb acknowledged, feeling a bit silly. He stripped bare from the waist up and Essek made quick work of the runes. 

"If working correctly, the spell should land you in the middle of this room. Between preparing the spell and thinking the incantation, cast something else. We want to make sure you have halted time correctly in the timeline of the teleportation spell and it is no longer dependent on your concentration." 

Caleb took a moment, steadying his breathing and began. First he concentrated on the runes and gathered the components. When he felt the spell start to accumulate inside him he spoke the incantation and then immediately halted the magic's progression before the words could employ their action. For a brief instant it felt like stemming a massive tide and then just like that it dissipated. Next, he cast Cat's Ire, making Essek smile fondly. 

"Wait a few minutes more," Essek advised, "Just to be sure. How are you feeling?" 

"It felt somehow overpowering? For a moment I thought I couldn't hold it back but at the last moment, I could." 

Essek nodded, thoughtfully, "It should get easier as you get used to that sensation. You've already done the hardest part. I've no doubt the teleportation will work. Give it a try." 

Caleb licked his dry lips, closed his eyes, thought the words as if to rekindle the spell, and then he was ripped through space and rematerialized in the centre of the study. He stared at Essek in delighted awe, "Gods, Essek, you did it. It worked." 

Essek grinned, " _You_ did it, my dear. Just as I knew you would." 

Caleb launched himself at Essek, weightless with pure adrenaline and delight, kissing his face, wrapping him in his arms, "You're incredible," he announced, "unbelievable. Thank you, _mein Herz_ , thank you." 

__"I was just the engineer," Essek replied, wrapping Caleb tightly in his arms, "you executed the spell flawlessly. I should like you to try it out from greater distances and with larger time increments but for the moment, I am satisfied." Caleb felt Essek's hand in his hair, smoothing over his back, comforting and glorious. "I'm so very proud of you," Essek whispered, so low Caleb almost missed it._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos-ing, and commenting. It means so much to me!


	11. Departure

Over the next couple of days, Caleb demonstrated that the spell held for various distances and lengths of time. He also worked to perfect a couple of other spells Essek deemed necessary. Despite Essek's best efforts to delay the inevitable, it was evident that Caleb was anxious to return to his party. Essek begrudgingly had to agree. He checked and double checked the runes on Caleb's ribs; made sure Caleb had additional indelible ink, just in case, and outfitted him with more than enough components for all his spells.

"Essek, you're fussing," Caleb accused, the evening before he was due to depart. Essek bristled slightly and stepped away from Caleb's pack. 

"Just...making sure," he muttered. 

"You have made sure. I have made sure," Caleb remarked, "I have everything I need and then some."

"And if something goes wrong—" Essek started.

"And if something goes wrong, I will concentrate on the incantation and I will come right back here."

Caleb strode over, his hands finding Essek's waist. The younger wizard leaned in to press their lips together, a suspended kiss, bittersweet.

"I don't want you to go," Essek admitted, sulkily.

"I know," Caleb acknowledged, "I would far rather be sleeping here with you every night and keeping safe and warm and dry and devouring your entire library. But I also need to live with myself."

"I'm aware," Essek conceded, "It's not that I want you to stay, I just...don't want you to go." He sighed heavily, feeling like a petulant teenager. 

"Come, _Schätzen_ ," Caleb said, kindly, "Let me take you to bed, see if I can't distract you for a little while."

******

Essek was slightly horrified at his own level of attachment. His meditation that night was disrupted, frequently needing to reassure himself of Caleb's presence with touch. At once point, Caleb simply threw a thigh over Essek's hips and settled his head under Essek's chin.

"You're very sweet," Caleb murmured, kissing his chest, "but if you don't let me sleep properly my last night in this lovely bed, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"Sorry, love," Essek replied, wrapping his arms around Caleb's back and forcing himself to still. 

******

And just like that it was time to go. Essek set the runes, and he and Caleb stood in the circle. He kissed Caleb one last time. 

"We'll see each other soon," Caleb promised. Essek could only nod. He forced himself to pry his hands off Caleb's shoulders, knowing the younger wizard valued his privacy, that he shouldn't be overbearing despite his worst impulses. 

He spoke the incantation. 

They materialized outside the Shattengrad ruins. Essek could make out the Nein's camp some twenty yards away, under the shade of a few large trees. 

"Thank you," Caleb said, quietly.

It was Beauregard who noticed them first. 

"Holy shit!" She exclaimed, "They're here!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned, following Beau's gaze. 

Jester broke into a sprint, leaping at Caleb when she was in arm's reach, swinging off his neck, her legs wrapped around his middle. 

Essek was disgusted with himself when he recognized a twinge of jealousy. He was sure it didn't become him. He tried to dismiss it. 

Soon, the rest of Nein were gathered around, hugging Caleb. Nott was crying large, wet tears that filled her overlarge eyes before streaming down her face. She dabbed at them with the hem of her shirt but they seemed unquellable. 

Caleb for his part was accepting and returning the affection. 

Caduceus broke away from the little cluster and addressed Essek. 

"Shadowhand," he greeted him, hand outstretched, "we can't tell you what you've done for us. You've returned something incredibly precious."

Essek wanted nothing more than to make an icy quip about not doing it for the Nein but he swallowed the retort in favour of diplomacy. 

"Yes, Essek!" Jester said, turning to him. Without warning, he suddenly found her arms wrapped around his waist, her head pressed to his chest, "Thank you for fixing Caleb. You're like really really smart. I thought he was a goner for sure."

Beau smacked him on the arm, "Yeah, man, we really appreciate it. Losing Caleb fucking destroyed us."

"Yes," Essek forced himself to respond, "It was lucky you reached out when you did. I'm not sure I would have been able to revive him had it been much later." He paused, not knowing what else to say, "For my sake, please keep my necromantic abilities to yourselves. It could get me in trouble in either kingdom."

"Of course," Fjord spoke, seemingly on behalf of the group, "You have our word."

Essek nodded, knowing realistically that asking the party to keep a secret was likely not even worth his breath. "It is not wise for me to linger," he stated, stiffly, "Please do a better job of looking after your wizard this time."

He looked to Caleb, who was kneeling, squeezing the hands of the small goblin with his own, looking near tears himself. Essek didn't want to interrupt the moment. He turned to drift back to the circle. 

"Essek, wait!" Caleb called after him. He ran up to him, looking at him with indecision in his eyes, then, with a muttered " _Gott verdammt_ ," he took Essek's face in his hands, yanked him close, and kissed him, breathless and determined. 

Beauregard predictably wolf-whistled and Jester shrieked, "I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE!"

Caleb was scarlet from his neck to the roots of his hair but he smiled his small smile and said, "I'll see you soon, _ja_?"

"Yes, dear heart, soon."

******

The manor felt empty. Essek went directly to his study, prepared to throw himself into his work but the study was too quiet, too. He missed Frumpkin's unruly purring, the gentle scritching sound of Caleb's note-taking. 

Exasperated, Essek stood and set out for the Lucid Bastion. 

******

"Shadowhand," the Bright Queen entered the small chamber Essek had occupied upon his arrival, transcribing the silent teleportation spell and working out how to change ultimate destination, "Your presence has been missed,"

Essek stood, grasping the Empress' outstretched hand and bowing slightly in greeting. 

"Apologies, your Grace, I was perfecting some research and returning the human to his party to aid in the hunt for the beacon."

"So soon?" 

"He was determined," Essek replied simply. 

"Your seduction attempts were unsuccessful?"

"Not at all," Essek assured her, "He is quite attached and is every bit as apt a pupil as I had hoped. He is simply also loyal to his friends and I could hardly keep him here against his will."

"I see, and have you determined his use for the Dynasty?"

"Certainly. Given a few years and the proper training and he'll likely usurp me."

The Bright Queen eyed him curiously, "Do you mean it?"

Essek shrugged, "To an extent. The speed at which he learns spells is unlike anything I have ever seen. His diplomacy is admirable but he might never be a very talented spy, a bit too earnest, perhaps, or lacking self assurance. Nevertheless, I see a bright and profitable future."

"You sound quite afflicted yourself," the Empress commented.

"Magical theory can be isolating," Essek offered, "it was a pleasure to envision working with so intelligent a collaborator."

Essek told his Queen of the teleportation spell, explaining its applications for valuable commanders and Dunemancers. She expressed her approval and determined it was to be enacted at once, especially during this ceasefire when such assets had time away from battle. Essek inquired after any relevant court gossip and confirmed that the Bright Queen had received recommendations from the dens on peace settlements. 

"How do you intend to proceed?" asked Essek. 

"We shall see if the Empire can retrieve our beacon for us first."

"I have delayed my worship for too long," Essek changed the subject, not wanting to seem as though he were interrogating the Queen. 

"You have indeed, Shadowhand. Join me at the Cathedral?"

"I believe I shall. Let me just dispatch these teleportation recommendations and I shall reconvene with you there."

******

Very few were privileged to meditate upon the beacon of the Bright Queen. Den leaders and those with status and religious inclinations were the most frequent acceptable visitors, or those plagued with illness and begging the grace of the Bright Queen. Only those of social worth were granted access and the act served more as propaganda than true service. The ailing elite left with the promise of a life renewed, should the skysybil or acting clergy allow the soul bond. 

The guards, expecting Essek, granted him access to the Bright Queen's enclave of solo worship. He found the Queen already in her meditation, her eyes wide and unmoving, her lips slightly parted. 

Essek gracefully settled cross-legged before the beacon and focused his gaze, the welcoming expanse of the artifact ushering him in. 

Before him floated the fragment and yet, instead of reaching for it, Essek took the opportunity to examine the nothingness, observing for any changes or alterations to the plane. It was the same vast emptiness, the same absence of sound and smell. Nothing seemed unusual. 

Essek returned his attention to the fragment. It drew him, tempted him, he stretched out his hand and, just prior to making contact, he stopped. He was puzzled at the emotion. The fragment never lured him before. In his memory it was always neutral, available for the taking but without motive. Essek stepped back, his eyes sharp and focused on the fragment. It remained unchanged in size, shape, colour and every aspect of its appearance. It was only the _feeling_ that had changed. 

Essek broke free of his trance without collecting the fragment. 

The Empress was watching him, "Feel rejuvenated?" she asked.

"Quite," Essek lied. "Your Grace, out of curiosity, is this the beacon through which I achieved my soul bond, or is it the one so recently returned to us?"

"The former," the Queen replied. "That is an odd question, Shadowhand. What made you speak it?"

"Just an odd feeling, your Grace. The fragment drew me to it."

"You have been too long away," the Empress decided, "do not let your studies interfere with your ascension."

"Yes, your Grace. My thanks for the privilege of your fellowship in worship."

"It is nothing," The Empress replied but her eyes were already fixated back upon the beacon and she was slipping away. 

******

Essek at once departed for the Xhorhaus to discuss his findings with Dairon. Upon his arrival, he was led to the war room. Dairon's face gave away nothing upon hearing his report. 

"I see," they said, "that aligns with my suspicions."

"Which are?"

"Someone within the Dynasty has altered the beacons, likely with the help of one or more members of the Assembly." 

"What proof have you?" Essek demanded, half hoping to brush off his experience with the beacon as paranoia. 

"Your infatuation with the human has blinded you, Shadowhand," Dairon said, bluntly, "Every day, your kingdom grows slides deeper into fervor. Your den leaders grow increasingly intent on their meditations, it is as an addiction. The effect is subtle but certain, they are being placated, seasoned for takeover. The Nein's assignment is a ruse. The Empire wants only time for your ruler to become fully bewitched, lost entirely to the draw of the object and oblivious to her duties. She recruits more and more religious observation, even from her military leaders. Soon, I suspect, she will have them withdraw altogether. The time to act draws near."

"To what end? Xhorhas is wasteland, we have few riches, what good is this land to the Empire?"

"You have some resources, and an easy victory makes for good propaganda, and some more curious minds might like to get their hands on the unusual beasts of this land, to fortify their power, should they be able to harness it. Putting down Xhorhas would end the religious threat and extract the thorn this land has long been in the paw of the Empire."

"Thank you for your counsel," Essek nodded, "I have indeed been distracted."

******

Essek sent Caleb two messages that night, in quick succession: "I have reason to believe the beacons have been tempered with in order to subdue the Bright Queen and ready the kingdom for invasion. Is infiltration of the Assembly possible? To undo this, we need to know the creator, and perhaps to interrogate them for the spell's reversal."

Caleb's answered back, "Did you try Dispell Magic?" a pause, "Only kidding. I will discuss it with the group. Should we prioritize this mission over finding the beacon?"

"Very droll," Essek answered dryly, amused despite himself, "Yes, this is a priority. We must reverse this for the survival of my kingdom. I believe your quest is a distraction."

"I understand. Infiltration is, ah, a bit of a big ask but we will think on it. Thank you for trusting me with this."

Essek nodded, satisfied and went to sit down for dinner when Jester's voice ripped through his mind.

"Hi Essek! Caleb also probably meant he really really misses you and he loves you so so much. He's been all tragic all day."

"Thank you, for that, Jester," Essek responded, shaking his head at the gregariousness that was the tiefling, "You may tell him likewise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I realized I forgot Caleb had fricking Sending this whole time. Will have to go back and edit some stuff or maybe just for this story he somehow missed that spell whoops. So please feel free to go ahead and ignore that (and all other) discrepancies. EDIT: nvm turns out I just conflated Sending and Message in my head, thanks for the clarifications!
> 
> A million thank yous to those you read, kudos-ed and commented. I'm a glutton for feedback and really find that stuff motivating as heck. You're the best!


	12. Preparation

"Oh my god," Jester was staring at Caleb, her eyes the size of saucers. 

Caleb was flushed red and furious, "Jester, you can't just _say_ things like that, please—"

"He said LIKEWISE, Caleb, LIKEWISE. Like he really loves and misses you, too, and has been miserable all day because of it. Likewise. Wow. Wow. He really loves you, whoa."

Everyone was looking at him again now like they had when he'd impulsively, ludicrously, kissed Essek. Some blend of shock, pride, concern for his judgment. Caleb wanted to crawl under a rock. 

"It's not like that," he said, helplessly. 

Nott put her hand in his, "It's okay if you do, you know. We all want you to be happy."

"Thank you, Nott. I was just only there a short time. It was simply an intense few days, I'm sure that was all."

"Dairon figures you almost for sure fucked, I asked," was Beau's input. 

"Can we not talk about fucking?" Caleb interjected, weakly, head in his hands.

"Fucking is very natural," Caduceus offered, like he was trying to offer reassurance. 

"Yes, I grew up on a farm, I'm aware fucking is natural!" Caleb spit out. 

"Whoa, easy there, friend," Caduceus attempted to soothe him, resting a big hand on Caleb's shoulder, "It's okay to miss him."

"You are all terrible," Caleb said, even if he didn't mean it, "I do not know what convinced me to come back to such terrible people."

"Because you love us," Jester informed him, brightly.

Caleb sighed heavily, shaking his head, " _Ja_. I do."

"Likewise," grinned Jester.

******

"He can't have meant infiltrate, infiltrate," Beau was saying, "Like we can't just pretend to suddenly be archmages and join the Assembly. So all we really need is to figure out who had opportunity to mess around with the beacons."

"We already know the _Vollstrecker_ were in Rosohna. We know whose orders they follow. That is all the proof I require," Caleb asserted. 

"So what are you saying," Jester half-whispered, "We just kidnap Ikithon?"

"Well?" Said Beau, "Why not? Asshole deserves it."

"Because we are supposed to be acting as agents of the Empire," Fjord replied, squeezing the bridge of his nose, "Kidnapping a member of the Assembly is hardly an act of good faith."

"Even if we could prove he was inciting war with the Kryn?" asked Jester.

"He may be inciting war on behalf of the King, for all we know," Yasha offered, thoughtfully.

"You think so?" asked Caduceus, "Nah, I don't think so. He seemed to find this whole thing a headache."

"Well," Nott spoke up, "hypothetically, if we _were_ to kidnap Ikithon...how would we do that? What are our ideas?"

"It would be difficult," Caleb said softly, "he is a very dangerous man. We would have to get him alone, and even then he could overpower us."

"Well, then maybe we don't overpower him," Beau considered, "Maybe we could trick him. Caleb, could you conceal that teleportation ring that Essek left? We could get him in it and bamf him to Rosohna. If Essek knew he was coming, he could have some sort of containment spell prepared."

"And then what?" Fjord prompted.

"And then we break into his house and check his notes while Essek has people like torture him until he tells them how to fix the beacons," concluded Jester. 

"Couldn't we try just the break in part, first?" Yasha suggested, looking unhappy. 

"It would be pure foolishness to try," Caleb was certain. 

"Perhaps," Fjord conjectured, "but perhaps he relies on his reputation for security. We are more than capable of disarming traps. We were even able to navigate the Happy Fun Ball, and gods know it was swarming with traps."

"That's it," Caleb said, looking up and feeling like a feasibly plan was finally in sight, "The Happy Fun Ball. It is the Bane of Archmages, it's in the name. We only need to get him lost in there. Then we can search the house. I know the man, know his ego. He won't be able to resist."

******

Jester sent warning and the Nein teleported into the Tidepeak. Yussa did not seem overly enthused by the plan but he was interested in the idea that someone had meddled with the beacons. 

"The sphere is technically yours," he acquiesced, handing it to Caduceus, "but take care. Ikithon is a powerful man."

They thanked the mage and bamfed back to Shattengrad. 

"So," said Caduceus, "How do you figure we get ourselves an invite?"

******

In the end, they decided to send word that they had found a unique magical artifact in the ruins. 

"Make sure you say that you are not sure what it does but it feels very compelling," Caleb instructed Jester, "We want him to want to take a look for himself and in private. He is a greedy man, use that."

Jester took a moment to rehearse her words, then sent the message: "Hi Archmage Ikithon, we found a really weird item out here. Not sure what it is but it feels really powerful. Maybe you could look?"

She paused and then told the group, "Oh man, I think it worked. He was all like "oh, maybe you should come by" but he said it like he was trying really hard to be casual but I could tell he was actually super interested. Should I say something back?"

"Tell him that our search has been fruitless and we are returning to Rexxentrum tomorrow to conduct some research. See how he responds," advised Fjord. 

Jester did so and then reported back: "Oh my god, he was all like "stop by my place, I will see if I can be of service." You guys, he totally fell for it or else he totally knows we are trying to trick him."

Caleb felt his mouth set in a firm line, "I guess we will find out tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And extra thanks to the kind folks who left comments :D


	13. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end notes for **content warnings**.

Essek did not know when he would see Caleb again. He assumed it would be a matter of weeks while the Nein strategized and researched and eked their way into the Assembly's graces. 

What he did not expect was Caleb, pale, shaking, and clutching a metallic sphere materializing in the centre of his study less than two days after they had parted ways. 

Essek's heart stuttered and he leaped from his seat, all but teleporting his way to Caleb's side. His hands flew to Caleb's anxious face, scanning it for information, "Caleb, what's happened? Are you alright?"

Caleb swallowed and nodded, " _Ja_ , I am okay. We need to get this ball into a secure cell. Immediately."

"My home is secure, or would you like some sort of a safe?" Essek asked, not quite understanding. 

"No," Caleb shook his head, "I'm sorry, I'm not being clear. Ikithon is in here and I don't know when he'll come out, and when he does, we need to be ready." 

Essek had roughly one thousand questions but he accepted the urgency in Caleb's voice and teleported them and the object to the Dungeon of Penance. Thankfully, being the Shadowhand, he didn't have to offer any explanation to the guards and led Caleb to the lead-lined cells reserved for the most dangerous of prisoners. Caleb placed the ball in the far corner and rushed back out of the cell. Essek locked it. He demanded the guards notify him the moment a person appeared in the cell. They were further instructed not to engage with the person in anyway and to even avoid listening to him, if they could. Magic should not be possible within the cell but Essek didn't want to give the archmage an opportunity to manipulate his way out. 

"I will need some manner of explanation," he informed the human. 

"When we get home," Caleb promised, "Or, uh, back to your home."

Essek found he rather preferred the former. 

******

"Are you hurt?" Essek demanded, once they were safely behind the locked study doors. 

Caleb shook his head, "No, I...I panicked, I believe. Seeing him again was difficult."

Essek couldn't help it. He reached out again to cup Caleb's face. Caleb closed his eyes and tilted his head down, looking suddenly exhausted.

"Come sit," Essek instructed, leading him over to a chaise along the side wall. He eased Caleb down, pressing close beside him, their hands linked, "Tell me what's happened."

Caleb exhaled a long, shuddering breath. Essek kissed his temple and rubbed slow circles on his back.

"That object," Caleb began, "It's called the Archmage Bane or the Heirloom Sphere--do you know it?"

Essek cast his mind back, the name did trigger a memory, "Halas' ball of tricks?" He clarified, "However did you come across that?"

"It's a long story," Caleb replied, "for now let's just say it has been in our possession for some time. I know you might have preferred a more subtle approach and a bit more digging, Essek, but I know at my core that Ikithon is responsible for the alterations to the beacons. He is motivated by power and his duties are Empire propaganda and secrecy. I have no doubt that he thought overtaking Xhorhas would be a nice feather in his cap and would win him further favour with the Crown. Not to mention the _Vollstrecker_ have already been here. There is no reason to believe that they weren't furnished with the knowledge of how to tamper with the artifacts and told to execute that mission prior to assassination. It's him, Essek, I know it is."

"Whether I agree or not is inconsequential at this moment," Essek responded, "since it appears that is how you approached the situation." 

Caleb nodded, still far too pale. 

"We told him we had found the Sphere in the Shattengrad ruins. I had no doubt that he would want to investigate any object of power himself, so the group brought it to him. I knew seeing me would result in his distrust so I hid, watching the meeting through the window." 

Caleb was rubbing his hands on his thighs with agitation, his speech getting faster. 

"Take a breath, love," Essek reminded him, clasping his fingers again with Caleb's. 

"It's quite pathetic," Caleb hissed, ignoring him, "he didn't even see me, I was watching from a hedge in the garden and even still, my reaction...it was overpowering. I felt like a child again, feeling his cane across my back, his magic tightening around my chest, compressing my lungs." 

Caleb shivered, a violent thrill coursing through his full body. He collapsed against Essek, burying his face in the fabric of his robes. 

Essek shifted over so the back of the chaise was supporting his weight. He maneuvered his limbs so he was leaning outright on the furniture and pulled Caleb down and into his chest, stroking his hair as Caleb clung to him. 

"You're not there now," he breathed, "my brave, beautiful boy. There's nothing pathetic about you. Not a single thing." 

"He disappeared into the sphere as I knew he would," Caleb whispered, "I was supposed to go in and bring it to you. That was my job. But I froze. I almost ruined everything. Nott had to run it out to me. Had to remind me of the incantation you taught me. I was stuck in place. Useless, a liability." 

"But you did it, dear heart. You did exactly what you were supposed to." 

"I could have let them down. He could have figured out it was a trick and came back and destroyed them. It is only a matter of time before I let them all down again." 

"Oh, my love," Essek murmured, kissing Caleb's hair and holding him close, "that is not true." 

"Don't make me see him again," Caleb begged, "I can't bear it." 

"That I can promise," Essek assured him. 

****** 

It was not until after a hot bath and a hot meal that Caleb returned to himself, somewhat. Curled up on a sofa in the library, Essek wound around him and a small fire warming him, Caleb was able to explain the differences in time between what he kept called the Happy Fun Ball and the present plane of existence and the Nein's experiences inside. It would seem there was no way of knowing if and when Ikithon would emerge and it would likely be some time. 

"Your ragtag group of misfits grow more and more impressive," Essek observed. 

"Our appearance of incompetence makes us easy to underestimate," Caleb offered. 

"Simply another advantage." 

"Mm." Caleb consented, raising his face for a kiss. Essek was more than happy to oblige. Caleb's kisses were persistent and searching tonight, as though he needed the physical reassurance. Essek tried to provide it, longed to wash away that doubt entirely. 

"Maybe message Jester and see if they have found anything inside the house?" Caleb asked when he next drew away. 

"Certainly," Essek responded, then spoke, "Hello Jester, thank you for sending Ikithon here. Any news on his household?" 

An icy panic seized Essek the moment he received the gasping response: 

"They're going to kill us, Essek, please—" 

Caleb must have noticed Essek's expression shift because he gripped Essek's forearm: "What is it?" 

"Your friends," Essek demanded, rising abruptly and beginning teleportation runes, "describe where you left them, exactly." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings** : panic attack, previous child abuse, PTSD-like response. 
> 
> Happy holidays, all—sorry this is just a short little chapter and also sorry about my hand-waviness re: plot. Honestly my intention was to write a quick hurt/comfort vignette but I guess that didn't happen. I don't really love writing plot and suddenly I found myself heaped in it. But I want to finish the story and if I force myself to churn out endless descriptions of plot points I know I will just quit, so handy-wavy it is! That way I can get back to the stuff I really care about: _feelings_. 
> 
> Okay, thanks for reading, you are all the best and I appreciate you a ton! 
> 
> Huge thank you to the folks who left comments. Honestly cannot explain how stoked I get!! <3


	14. Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end notes for **Content Warnings**.

Caleb did not realize until a moment before that Essek had no intention of bringing him along. He lunged into the circle at the last minute, gripping Essek's bicep, and the two tore through space-time to arrive in the foyer of Trent Ikithon's immaculate mansion. 

"Caleb, what are you—" Essek gasped at the exact moment Caleb called out:

"I'm going with you."

Essek gave him a shocked look but knew better than to speak. They both silently observed the space. It looked eerily undisturbed. Caleb had watched the Nein walk in here earlier that day in their boots but now the floor looked brand new. The furniture was cool metal tones and perfectly placed. No mess, no dents, no scratches. 

Caleb heard Essek mutter a dispell magic. The illusion melted away to reveal disarray: a large hole was scorched in the wall to their left, a line of scuff marks marred the tiles, dark, arterial blood accompanying them. At least it was an easy trail to follow. 

Caleb felt his mind sharpen and fold in like a collapsing periscope, his mind's eye on the distance, no distractions. He willed himself to move as sleekly as a cat, stealthily and silently. Essek was at his side doing the same—Caleb imagined them as two wolf hounds scenting a trail and the image and the company bolstered him. 

They followed the scuffle signs and blood down the hallway, through a kitchen, to the open back door. 

The Private Academy. Caleb felt memory after memory wash over him: the little hidden room beneath the grounds of Ikithon's rolling gardens where Caleb, Astrid and Eodwulf would commit the worst of their atrocities. Neatly organized torture chambers where they would alternate between playing the perpetrator and victim. They had to learn never to crack, after all. 

For a brief and horrible moment, Caleb felt the panic claw at the edges of his consciousness. He felt Essek's hand clamp his, sensing the shift. This time, though, Caleb leaned into the memories instead of reeling from them. He remembered making the trek from their dorm to the cells, day after day. Gradually it had shifted, that sick, heavy dread turning to miserable resignation, to matter of course, to want. Eventually, he had wanted to do those things, for the Empire. Always for the Empire. It had felt so shiny and good to be so certain. To never question, to follow orders, to be Right. He would never feel that way again. 

"This way," he breathed, barely a whisper, leading Essek toward the back entry. 

Caleb tried to make his footfalls as silent as Essek's graceful hovering and by some turn of luck, the heavy bolt moved noiselessly when he slotted it open. They crept down the narrow stairs, listening. 

"He's in Xhorhas, I swear by the Mother," it was Fjord's voice, "Please, don't hurt her any more."

Caleb felt his stomach seize unpleasantly. Jester. _Gott verdammt_ , of course it would be Jester. Caleb would have their throats. He would have their eyes and their breath. They would not live to regret this day. 

"Your cooperation is heeded," came a cool, voice with a faint Zemnian accent. Caleb's heart skittered uncomfortably, the compartments seeming to beat all wrong. Astrid. "And how did Archmage Ikithon find his way to Xhorhas, traitor?"

Caleb stepped round the corner into view, "I took him there."

To his credit, Astrid's face registered a brief note of surprise. Caleb did his best not to look at his friends, he knew he could not withstand their suffering. 

"Hello, Astrid."

"Bren," she acknowledged, voice tight, "I thought you were mad."

Caleb shrugged, "Maybe I am." He did not come here to talk. He extended his arm and cast web of fire, directly at her heart. He felt nothing. He had felt her die long ago. The creature before him was not his friend, not his comrade, or his solace. She was meat that no longer housed a soul. 

The attack caught her by surprise and she screamed as the flames whipped through her hide armour, igniting her hair and her skin. Her eyes turned to coals as Caleb focused the entire strength of the spell towards her destruction. She sank to her knees, scrambling at her throat but Caleb had filled her core with embers and she could not breathe. Fire burst her apart and she crumbled away. He did not miss her even as he missed the girl he had loved. The two were not the same. 

Several Scourgers appeared from down a corridor and, ignoring the remains of their compatriot, attacked Caleb viciously. 

Their daggers sunk in, full bladed and deep but Caleb barely felt them. His eyes had landed on Jester's near motionless form, swollen with abuse, rivulets of blood draining down the table on which she sprawled to stain the floor. The floor that had been designed for such carnage. He saw it swirl purposefully towards a drain. A sight he had seen so many times, only then it had been his blood or him splitting the veins, never sure what was worse until those last days. Those days when committing torture masqueraded as triumph and Ikithon didn't need to bleed him any more because he had ascended, he was a true and perfect soldier for the Empire and he had embodied every insidious lesson. 

The _Vollstrecker_ made their second strike, Caleb falling to his knees. He shot out a fireball at his closest attacker but their were too many of them and they were too fierce. He was unfocused and flailing, impulsive and stupid and his friends would pay the price. 

And then Essek appeared. He was levitating in the corner of the room, a great deep black mist surrounding him. Essek palms seemed to suck away light from all directions, gathering darkness around him like so many bandages. His lip curled in disgust and Caleb realized in that moment that all he had observed of Essek's powers were but a fraction of his abilities. 

No time had passed and yet time must have passed for there was Essek over him, a half dozen _Vollstrecker_ collapsed like marionettes in a crescent around him, their throats neatly slit. 

Essek was mouthing words Caleb couldn't quite make out but it must have been healing because he felt his wounds knit up, his blood replenish. He was not at full strength, not even close, but he was not veering towards unconsciousness either. 

He saw the party's packs stashed against a wall and he made for them.

"Caleb, love, I'll take care of them, please—" Essek started but stopped when he saw the murderous determination stamped across Caleb's face. 

Caleb dug out several healing potions and ran to Jester, pouring one into her mouth. She was alive, thank the gods, even though Caleb knew she had only been kept that way as a pawn to lure the truth out of Fjord. Any later and Astrid, having received the information she required, would have ended them both. Caleb couldn't fathom it. 

He ran to Fjord and undid his bonds, giving him a potion. 

"Where are the others?" He demanded, "Are they hurt?"

"Only subdued, so far as I know," Fjord replied, his eyes sunken with a hollow self-hatred, "I'm sorry, Caleb, I thought I could withstand anything but I couldn't let them keep making her suffer."

"Go," Caleb motioned him over to Jester who was starting to blink awake, "I'll try and find Caduceus."

"Jessie?" Fjord said, voice heartbreakingly soft and thick with despair. 

Caleb nodded to himself, good, Jester was taken care of he could—

Essek physically stopped him then, a strong arm across his chest before he could round the corner. 

"Me first," the drow insisted. 

Caleb didn't have the energy to fight it and he let Essek, still cloaked in ethereal darkness, round the next corner in the labyrinth of cells. 

Sleek red arrows were soaring through the air, their aim true. Caleb cried out then yelped in relieved surprise to see the arrows pass through Essek like mist. Essek snapped graceful fingers three, four, five times and the sentries with hoisted bows collapsed like stacked blocks at the hands of a boisterous child, each successive one realizing their fate a moment before it happened. Essek flung his hands wide and the doors to the cells blew open, locks splintering like toothpicks. 

"Hello?" A small voice called out, and Caleb's heart rebounded against his sternum. 

"Nott?" Caleb urged.

The small goblin crept out of a far cell then sprinted to Caleb. "Oh, Caleb, I knew you would come."

The rest of the Nein was emerging, looking worse for wear but stable. 

Nott was halfway to hugging Caleb when she froze, "That's a lot of blood, Caleb, are you okay?"

" _Ja_ ," Caleb insisted, kneeling "Essek healed me. Not great but I'm fine, give me a hug, okay?"

Nott did, her tough, lithe arms around his neck, "Hello, Essek," Nott acknowledge over Caleb's shoulder. Essek was still floating near the ceiling, "Um, thanks for your help?"

Essek didn't reply and soon Caleb was swarmed with the rest of the Nein who were hugging him and patting his back and asking after Fjord and Jester. Caleb led the party to them, Essek floating silently behind. 

******

They were all safe and accounted for inside the Xhorhaus. Essek didn't seem pleased about using yet another spell to transport the Nein but he didn't argue, just glowered and completed the incantation. 

Caduceus had administered the necessary healing to Jester and Caleb was now brewing tea, humming a little to himself. 

Fjord was closed in on himself, looking despondent and bereft while Jester held his hand. 

"Fjord, you are being too hard on yourself," she was saying, "There was really not much harm in telling them the truth because how were they going to get to Xhorhas without Icky-thong? Plus I really didn't like what they were doing so I was kind of relieved."

Fjord didn't even look at her, so she just kept going, "Look, I know you are probably like "Oh, Jester, I'm so weak and horrible for caving and will you ever forgive me," but no one is thinking that and so you shouldn't either, okay?"

Caleb suspected Fjord was thinking more about how long it would take to scrub his memory of the disfigured body of Jester but he didn't say anything. 

For his part, Fjord just squeezed Jester's hand, "Thanks, Jessie."

******

Once tea was served, the party quieted. 

"What happened after I left?" Caleb inquired. 

"Fucking Scourgers is what happened," Beau informed him, "We were looking around the house trying to find something useful about the beacons and we must have tripped some sort of alarm. Next thing we know the bastards are popping up like fucking weasels. About ten of them and all with magic shit I've never seen. Nasty fucking Caedogeist wannabes." She shuddered, "Well, they got the drop on us and it was frankly embarrassing."

This was apparently about as much as Essek could bear. 

"You are, all of you, frankly embarrassing," he snarled, "No preparation, no thought, running headfirst into chaos again and again, and for what? We are no closer to discovering the enchantment placed upon the beacons. And _you_ ," he whirled on Caleb, "What possessed you to hitch a ride on my teleportation spell—an act that should not have even been possible, according to my incantation—only to nearly get yourself killed a second time. I did not need your help against a few overzealous mortals! You think I can just teleport in an out and rescue you and save your life at a whim? You must realize that these things have costs and restrictions, they do not flow like water! What if I were out of spells? Out of components? What if death came too swiftly for me to counter? I will not look upon your corpse a second time, Caleb! You cannot ask that of me, not now."

Yasha put a quiet, supportive arm around Caleb. The rest of the room sat in chastised silence, except Jester who started rifling through her bag of holding. She emerged first with a sticky looking Danish which she shoveled into her mouth, and then a small, plain-bound book. 

"Look, Essek," she said, her voice small and sweet and Jester-style soothing, "We all really love Caleb a lot, too, okay? And none of us can stand to see him hurt and yes, you probably could have rescued us all on your own—like wow, your powers are really cool—but you know Caleb doesn't work that way and besides, it wasn't for nothing, see?"  
She tossed him the book. 

Still shaking in anger, Essek opened the book on the table before them. Inside were intricate drawings of the beacon, the fragment of possibility and careful notes on the process of connecting with it. He turned the page to find more script, including the words, "alteration," and "concealment" and "temptation." 

"Bingo," said Beau. 

******

Caleb walked with Essek back to the manor. Essek, apparently short on spells or patience or energy, walked also. Caleb found he missed the supercilious floating. 

Their steps were muffled by a silent drifting ash. A fire had apparently erupted in the badlands and the wind had swept it into the city. It was not unlike snow, masking the light of the moons and coating surfaces, soft and mysterious. 

Essek was gripping his hand hard enough to hurt but Caleb didn't protest. 

Despite Jester's find and the ensuing discussion on disenchanting the beacons, Essek's foul temper hadn't dissipated, and he didn't speak. 

Caleb turned to apologize for the fourth time, just break the silence, when he noticed. Essek's ash-flecked face was wet with silent tears. 

"Essek?" He murmured, not know what to say, "What is it?"

Essek just shook his head and gripped Caleb's hand harder. 

******

Caleb lay alone in the guest bedroom in the manor of the Shadowhand. He felt weak and woozy from his semi-healed wounds and exhausted from the turmoil of the day. 

Essek appeared at the door, expression tense and drawn, "May I come in?" He asked, his voice too distant, too polite. Caleb hated it. 

"Yes, of course," Caleb replied, sitting up and leaning against the head of the bed. 

Essek perched on the side of the bed, not looking at him. 

"I'm sorry for my...display this evening," Essek spoke, finally, "You are, of course, not a prisoner here and have every right to come and go as you please. It was my mistake when I failed to clarify your wishes as to staying or accompanying me to Ikithon's."

"I didn't clarify anything either," Caleb offered, "I know you were just looking out for me."

Essek held up a palm, "Please," he resumed, "I—It is not easy for me to reconcile the extent of my feelings for you. I like to consider myself above such irrationalities as love and devotion. Yet here I am, very much devoted and utterly—" his voice broke, "in love with you. These feelings that I was hoping to pass off as academic curiosity have tangled deep roots within me, Caleb, and..." he breathed deeply, and Caleb realized it was trying to keep from crying again, "and I find it difficult, no, frankly, I find it monstrously horrifying, when you put yourself in harm's way the way you do. I know..." Essek took another shaky breath, "I know I cannot expect you to leave your friends or give up your mission, and I will not ask you to. But please, promise me you'll be more careful and spend some small amount of time letting me teach you before you leave here again."

Caleb swept the blankets off his legs and kneeled beside Essek. He coaxed the drow's head against his chest and wrapped his arms around his arms and head, rocking him gently, his heart bursting with sorrow. He vowed to himself that he would not do this to Essek again. 

"I promise on both accounts," Caleb assured him. 

Essek turned his desolate face up and Caleb kissed him, soft and measured. Essek's mouth was giving and tentative and it made Caleb bloom with guilt. Essek was right, Caleb had been reckless and Essek's misery was too great a cost. 

"Thank you for saving me, again," Caleb murmured, "I will do everything in my power to ensure that was the last time."

"I don't mean you can't call on me if you need help," Essek was quick to clarify.

"I know," Caleb smiled, sliding back and pulling the drow along with him, "but I shall endeavour not to overdo it." 

Caleb traced his fingertips along the geography of Essek's skull. Essek's hands explored his chest, as if to confirm he was real. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered into the drow's grey hair for the dozenth time, "You've reminded me, as have my friends, that my life is no longer disposable."

Essek kissed his chest, "It never was."

Arms and heart full, Caleb smiled in the darkness, "I know that now, _Geliebter_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warnings** : violence, past child abuse. 
> 
> I've not actually listened to the most recent ep yet, so it is very likely that Astrid is a much more layered and complicated character and I have been overly reductive here and also possibly OOC (not that I gave her a lot of dialogue...)! Hope it wasn't too far off the mark. 
> 
> Thanks SO much for the comments and kudos!


	15. Ignition

Essek, Dairon, and the Nein reconvened the following morning. Essek had broken his trance early that day and familiarized himself with the contents of Ikithon's notes.

"No news from the dungeons," Essek was saying, "so with any luck Ikithon remains enraptured by the wonders of the Heirloom Sphere. For now, his spellbook has been both illuminating and incriminating. It appears your suspicions were not unfounded."

"I hope you realize by now that our recklessness is not entirely misguided," Fjord suggested.

"Hm," Essek gave a non-committal response, "Go a couple missions which don't end with your wizard dead or dying on the floor and perhaps I will concede." An impulse to reach out and grip Caleb's thigh, feel the warmth of blood flow and the reassuring density of muscle seized him but Essek suppressed it. The Nein knew of the sexual relationship between them, certainly, but Essek felt unwilling to expose the vulnerable, emotional aspect as well. They probably knew of that, too, but it still felt like a weakness. He half expected some argument from Jester but the tiefling was uncharacteristically subdued, Beauregard and Fjord flanking her like concerned sentinels across the table. Instead, there was an awkward moment before Essek went on, "our next action is to get to the beacons and attempt to remove the enchantment. It is my understanding that it is taking significant hold already, so we must act directly. Dairon, has there been Dynasty cooperation in this?"

"Not from my perspective," Dairon replied, "I find only increased fervour among the dens."

Essek nodded in acknowledgement. 

"Good. Now in regards to breaking the enchantment. It is a complex arrangement and requires two people: a mage and a _Vollstrecker_. I suspect that Ikithon felt that would safeguard the spell from being broken as he trusts in the loyalty of his assassins. Caleb, to disable the enchantment, we would have to...reactivate your markings—"

"No," Jester spoke for the first time, her voice low and dangerous, "leave Caleb out of this. We brought you Ikithon's spells, and we even brought you Ikithon. You're really smart, figure something else out. You're not doing that to Caleb. We won't let you." 

"Your concern does you credit," Essek responded, "and I share the same concerns. Which is why I was going to offer that instead of subjecting Caleb to that, we return to Rexxentrum and unearth another Scourger and use them under duress." 

"You are both aware that I am here in this room?" Caleb spoke up, a quiet, unfamiliar anger in his voice, "You are both so busy protecting me that you have not thought to ask me my opinion, which is this: you will not convince a _Vollstrecker_ to cooperate via duress or any other method of coercion. Even if you did, I would not trust them. I do, mostly, trust myself. You will do what needs to be done, Essek." Caleb rolled up his sleeves, revealing the extensive network of scars. 

"Certainly not—" Essek objected at the same time that Nott asked, 

"Caleb, are you sure?" 

Caleb silenced them both with a gesture. 

"This is not your decision to make," the younger wizard insisted, "I don't want this any more than any of you. But this is your home, Essek. I destroyed mine. Let me help save yours." 

Essek's throat tightened. He threaded his fingers with Caleb's, weaknesses be damned. "Thank you, Caleb." 

****** 

Caleb and Essek were alone in the war room. Essek was referencing Ikithon's notes on imbuing _Vollstrecker_ and Caleb was perched, ashen-faced, by the fire. 

"My love, are you absolutely—" Essek couldn't help but starting. 

"Ask me one more time if I'm sure and I will throw that _verdammt_ spellbook in the fire," Caleb growled, "We're doing this." 

Essek sighed, heart heavy, and sat down across from the other man. He lay his forearms across Caleb's, gripping him at the crease of his arms. 

"This will hurt," He explained, apologetically. 

"I remember," was Caleb's response. 

"Caleb, I—" 

"Do it." 

____Essek shut his eyes, forcing his uncertainty and his hurt to the side. He unearthed the coarse, unruly power of his own youth. It was too intense, too militant. It burbled up through his chest, fraught and aggressive, seething out of his skin and leeching into Caleb's. Essek's eyes flew open and he watched the scars ignite with violet fire. He heard Caleb's breath catch and, glancing up to catch his expression, watched him clamp his inner cheeks between his molars in stoic resignation. Essek began the incantation, the fire burning ever brighter in the long closed wounds. He was tearing Caleb's flesh, making him a tool. Essek felt a wave of revulsion at himself but bit that back, too. This was—Caleb was, a gift.____

_____ _

_____ _

Caleb's back arched and his throat pulsed fiercely, sternocleidomastoids bulging and blood trickling out from between his teeth, where he'd injured himself. He was silent and sweating, eyes staring up and scanning madly, unaligned. His forearms were too bright to look at, Essek's untempered magic gripping them, possessing them, awakening what had been dormant. 

And then it was over. Essek messaged for Caduceus as he sped to Caleb's side. Caleb was falling, slumping down towards the carpet, unconscious or nearly so. Essek slid an arm under him, easing them both to the ground. 

Caduceus entered the room as Caleb's gaze caught Essek's. Caduceus quickly fired off a healing spell to stabilize the wizard, 

"Alright there, Caleb?" The firbolg asked. 

Essek's was stroking his face, his hair, "Dear heart, come back to me." 

"I'm here," Caleb muttered, and Essek kissed his face, ignoring Caduceus' appraising eyes. 

"I'd..." Caleb started, then licked his bloody lips, "I'd forgotten what it felt like to wield power like this. It is, ah, a bit scary. I'm alright, _Geliebter_ ," he continued, slowing getting to his feet, "stop looking at me like I'm going to fall apart. I am okay. Sick with power but mostly okay." 

Caleb reached out to take Caduceus' hand, resting his free hand on the tall creature's bicep, "Thank you, my friend. I would know your healing anywhere. Now if you both don't mind, my cat and I are going to go have a nap." 

Frumpkin appeared at Caleb's ankles and the two exited the war room. 

****** 

"We need to talk about what comes next," Beau announced over the evening meal. The flavours were varied and unique and quite unlike the Dynasty spices to which Essek was accustomed. Essek had to admit that the party came with remarkable, sundry talents. Essek was glad to have Caleb, seemingly recovered, seated beside him. 

"Next when?" Essek asked, not quite ascertaining her meaning. 

"Like next, next," Beau replied, "So, like, we get in, we dispell Ikithon's shitty spell, we're the heroes of the Dynasty all over again, or are we? What's stopping the Bright Queen from getting all embarrassed for being tricked like that and taking it out on us. Maybe she likes feeling this connected to the beacon, we don't know. The last thing any of us want is to end up rotting away like our buddy Trent." 

"I understand your meaning," Essek agreed, "and I appreciate your attempt at foresight," 

"Whoa, need a little sun with that shade, Essek, fuck!" Beau retorted with a laugh, "We do occasionally try to work shit out!" 

Essek gave her the hint of a smile, "And as I said, I appreciate that. I have known the Empress for over a century and while she is a proud woman, she is not a woman ruled by pride. I do not expect her reaction to being freed from this false fervour to be anything but one of anger towards the culprit, and gratitude for her kingdom." 

"So what, she is gonna give us another house?" Jester butt in, a hint of her playful personality having returned, "Do you think we can get one where we actually get to see the sun once in a while?" 

"I cannot speak to what, if any, rewards may be bestowed," Essek stated, diplomatically, "and Caleb and I first need to ensure we are comfortable ending the enchantment upon the beacon." 

"We will be," Caleb affirmed with uncharacteristic certainty. 

Nott eyed him curiously, "Are you alright, Caleb?" 

"Oh yes," Caleb replied, not looking at her, not fully. 

Essek didn't like the uncanny confidence in the younger wizard's voice. It was too bright, too loud, too not-quite-Caleb. But he did like the strong fingers that clamped down on his thigh under the table, the meaningful upsweep, and the promise of more to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! I had to move and it just took it outta me for a couple of days.
> 
> Thanks for sticking this out and thanks for all the very sweet and kind and encouraging comments. You are all just so lovely and wonderful and I'm glad I'm not the only one aboard this ship!


	16. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see **content warnings** in end notes if required. This chapter contains smut, demarcated by *** and ending at the next *** for those who would like to skip it. More plot next chapter, I promise!

Ikithon was an archmage for a reason. Caleb hated how much he relished and admired the man's spellwork, how bold yet precise each aspect of it was. It was later that evening and Caleb and Essek were again in the study at the manor, practicing for their task the following day. Caleb could feel Essek's magic within him still and everything felt easy. He thought he had known the drow's power but now that he could track its course through his veins, he realized he'd underestimated the extent of it. Essek just had such exquisite control that those raw edges, the ones he'd imbued Caleb with, didn't show. 

Essek stood across from him and was using Caleb's scars, no, fresh wounds, as his focal point. Caleb could remember Ikithon's magic, oleaginous and rancid, channeling through him that first time. He remembered how much it repulsed him. Although he had become resigned to the sensation, accepting, it always felt so alien. Essek's magic was so different. It had a velvet edge, welcoming and intent, Caleb wanted more, invited it in. 

"Excellent, Caleb," Essek remarked as they worked the spell to fluency, and Caleb liked that, too. He liked impressing the other man, allowing his ego to be soothed in a way it never had been with Ikithon, where even praise came with an underbelly of undermining assault. "That's enough for tonight."

Caleb released the spell and stood, respiration increased, magic still crackling around him. Foolhardy as it was, he felt invincible. He watched Essek's face, flushed with a dark purple glow. It was not often that the drow showed anything resembling exertion and he found that it excited him. He wanted to see Essek wound up, overwhelmed. 

***

He lunged at Essek, hungry for him, but too his surprise, something stopped him. Essek smiled knowingly, as his magic immobilizing Caleb on the spot, thick bands of magic restraining his limbs. "Do you want something, darling?" Essek asked, all faux innocence.

"You," Caleb growled, straining at the invisible bonds, feeling white hot arousal pool in his belly. 

"Mm, I can see that," Essek commented, stepping close into Caleb's space, palming Caleb's cock through fabric, making him groan, "should I let you have me, do you suppose?" Essek pressed his lips against Caleb's neck, hands on his chest, "because I find I'm in the mood to have _you_." The spell dropped and Caleb clutched Essek by the robes, kissing him hard, as if he could channel all that glorious magic back into him. Caleb felt himself suddenly levitated off the floor and repositioned, seated on Essek's sturdy desk, legs dangling over the edge. It was a thrill to have Essek manipulate him, a reminder of his power and Caleb's trust that it wouldn't be used against him. Essek was suddenly over him again, hands baring Caleb's chest while magic went to work unfastening his trousers. Caleb scrambled out of clothes only to have Essek push him back and then Essek's mouth was on him, his stomach, his groin and hips, hands pressing down into his thighs. Essek traced a knuckle along the underside of Caleb's cock and Caleb cried out. 

"You will not finish," Essek instructed, "before my say so." Caleb nodded his deference and understood the need for the warning when Essek took him into his mouth. It was all warm wetness and perfect, too-tight suction. Caleb rolled his hips needily, feeling Essek's magic flare up around them. Essek pressed them back down, drew back along Caleb's length. "I want you to lie still" he murmured, "to fight your instincts, I want to watch you struggle. Can you do that for me, sweet, or should I bind you again?"

"Bind me again," Caleb reacted immediately, surprising himself. Such powerlessness terrified him but he wanted that risk, a demonstration of his trust. 

"With pleasure," Essek replied, looking pleased. Caleb felt heavy, smooth straps of magic criss-cross over his thighs, his hips, holding him in place. His heartbeat was in his cock as Essek engulfed it again and this time Caleb could do nothing but feel it. It was overwhelming in the best and brightest way and within minutes Caleb was calling out, begging for release. 

Instead, Essek withdrew, neatly wiping his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. He took Caleb's desperate cock in one, casual hand, jerking him lazily. "Try to break free," he suggested, "Show me the power I've given you."

Caleb whined a little, desperate to finish and aching from the denial. He turned his mind to the bonds, pushing his own magic up against them, examining them for weaknesses. Before he could isolate anything, Essek brought his mouth down on Caleb's cock again and reflexively, driven by the coursing demands of his body, Caleb threw off the bonds, breaking free, hands in Essek's hair, hips pushing up, wanting endlessly. 

"Such a clever boy," Essek mused, pulling off again, maddeningly, "I like knowing you can protect yourself. I'll bring you off now, how's that?" Essek lowered his head when suddenly Caleb realized it wasn't enough, he didn't want it to end, not yet.

"Essek, wait," Caleb found himself bold with power and drawing his heels up to the edge of the desk, "I want...you inside me when I do. Will you?" He watched with heady satisfaction as a wave of lust washed over Essek's features. His own reply was to lean in close to Caleb, raising his head to kiss him thoroughly, hand scrabbling around in a desk drawer and reappearing with a small vial. 

Without detaching his mouth from Caleb's, Essek's oiled finger glanced across the exposed hole, making Caleb's breath catch. He found he didn't want gentle, he didn't want easing in, he wanted Essek, furiously. 

"Don't be careful," he demanded, biting into Essek's lip and rocking his pelvis encouragingly. 

Essek kissed his neck and drew his finger upwards, entering Caleb, still agonizingly slow. "I don't think you are in a position to tell me what to do with my own things, in my own home." 

Caleb felt a rush of agitated arousal at the possessive tease, accentuated by the finger inside him curling just-so, rendering him unable to make an intelligent reply, instead just arching and gasping. 

"No," Essek continued, "I'm going to enjoy you, my dear. What do you think, could you come just from this? I mean you can't, obviously, since I won't let you, but hypothetically..."

"Essek—" Caleb mewled as another finger eased inside him. The nerve plexus was firing inside him, wracking his core with an intense, unexpected pleasure, hurtling him towards orgasm. There was no pain, no burning to the stretch, only delicious pressure hinting at the full sensation of what was to come. 

"Is that a yes?"

" _Bitte_ ," Caleb pleaded, "fuck me, already."

Essek chuckled, spending a suspended moment stretching Caleb to his satisfaction before withdrawing. He pulled back and Caleb felt himself being observed, naked and writhing, begging to be fucked. Essek was stroking himself slowly now, cock coated in a thin sheen of oil, still clothed. 

"You really need it, hm?" He asked, voice less teasing and more tender, "Gods, you're lovely like this. I almost want to keep you on this brink for hours."

Caleb only whimpered, ruled by need and frustration. 

"And while I can deny you indefinitely," Essek continued, leaning close, his cock aligned with Caleb's hole, "I find it infinitely more difficult to deny myself."

And with that, he fucked into Caleb in one long, smooth, perfect stroke. 

Caleb's hands fluttered purposelessly, coming to settle on the edges of the desk, bracing himself. Essek's hands gripped his waist as he thrust forward again and again. 

"Yes," Caleb murmured, "Gods, yes, Essek, you feel—" His words cut off as Essek encircled Caleb's cock with one hand, firm and certain. 

"I won't last," Essek explained, "You're too incredible, love, can you come for me, soon?"

The words had barely taken hold when Caleb felt himself spill over with a cry, he had been on the edge too long and Essek felt far too good, in him, around him. The mess he made must have been just debauched enough, however, because within a moment he felt Essek coming, too, filling Caleb with an unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, warmth. 

After catching his breath, Essek pulled out, eyes on Caleb's face. A handkerchief appeared, tidying up the pool on Caleb's belly and the excess oil along his ass. 

Caleb let his feet fall off the desk, let Essek help him to standing, unsteady as he was. 

"Alright, dearest?" Essek inquired and _verdammt_ if the man didn't sound a little smug.

"You know I am," Caleb replied, turning his face up for a kiss which was promptly administered, "but take me to bed, _ja_?"

***

They rose the next morning without speaking, the day's tasks forefront in their minds. The would approach the beacons saving the Queen's own for last, as Essek wanted to be sure all the charms were broken and so the Queen could not relapse into a another corrupted artifact. 

They dressed, ate quickly and fastened their cloaks for the unnaturally chilly morning air. At the entrance, Essek stopped Caleb momentarily with one hand on his shoulder. 

"Caleb," he spoke, quiet and earnest, "Thank you for this. I cannot—" he interrupted himself, then restarted, "I know I can be a bit calculating, get caught up with my studies. I'm not so very attached to the people here, even to my den. But I trust the Queen, trust that until now, her intentions have been worthy. Given the chance, she will do what is right, she will work for her people. And despite my egoist tendencies, I do care what's right. You are enabling that and...it means a great deal to me. You mean a great deal to me."

Caleb pressed in close, forehead to forehead with Essek, before pressing their lips together, "Likewise, Shadowhand," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning** : magical injury, vague reference to past abuse, sexual content, oral and anal sex, slight D/s dynamics, orgasm denial, potentially dub con since Caleb is like a little jacked up on power (definitely not the intention but I can see how it could be interpreted that way), magical bondage.
> 
> A million billions thanks for the comments on previous chapters. Thanks for reading, I can't believe this beast might actually be coming to a close soon-ish. (Also can't believe I thought it would be like less than 4 chapters, self-deceit is v real).


	17. Enactment

The chilly air and the empty streets made Essek uneasy. His attention recently had been diverted away from everyday life in Rosohna but usually the city would be bustling as vendors embarked for work. So far this morning, Caleb and he had passed only six creatures and four of them had failed to recognize him and pay him respects. Essek was not so much bothered by the lack of etiquette as the lack of awareness. The faulty beacons were indeed hypnotizing the citizenry, just as Dairon warned. 

When they turned down the lane-way toward the Rosohna Principal Cathedral—the one location where common folk could glimpse a beacon—Essek's anxiety blossomed to ripened concern. The streets had been empty because here they all were: a mass and press of bodies around the proud building. The crowd was silent, slow, just shuffling mindlessly into the backs of those in front of them, undulating like submerged kelp. He heard Caleb make a shocked noise beside him. 

"There's little military," Essek observed, quietly, "That may be our one grace. The Empire would not commit to an offensive unless the Dynastic troops had folded. We have time, but only just."

Caleb simply nodded and strode toward the crowd. The swell of bodies was thick and impossible to traverse. Before Essek could come up with a solution, Caleb was uttering an incantation and, quite suddenly, a large, faintly glowing dodecahedron appeared above the Cathedral. It pulsed there for a few beats until the gaze of the crowd was upon it and then it began to migrate to the right of the building. Essek was pleased to see that Caleb's ingenious ploy was working. The silent witnesses turned as one, traipsing after the floating beacon, evacuating the main entrance of the Cathedral. The two waited until the crowd there had thinned enough for them to make it through and into the nave. There were still creatures crowding the space but they were docile in their rapture and Caleb and Essek were able to push their way to the beacon resting on the altar. 

They stood before it, shared a determined glance, and entered. 

******

Essek had never shared the blank expanse of a beacon with another. Even in shared meditation, he was always alone once inside. He was thankful to turn and see Caleb still beside him--liked that he could feel his magic tethering them. 

"Can you feel it?" Essek asked, curiously. 

"Yes," Caleb replied, "It is...insistent. It was not like this before."

"No," Essek agreed, "Ready?"

"Certainly."

With neat precision, Caleb rolled up the sleeves of his cloak, exposing his forearms for Essek to use as a focus. Essek meditated on them for a moment until he could find the thread of his magic. Once found, he coiled it close around his fist, drawing in the tendrils and weaving them like a tapestry. For his part, Caleb anchored the charm, until it was secure between them, like a fine sieve. Working in tandem, they slowly raked the net through the fragment, deliberate in their actions. And suddenly, it was caught—the corruption. It wasn't visible so much as a sensation, an irregularity in the fragment. 

"There you are," Caleb murmured, reaching out, and Essek knew at once he was enchanted. 

"Don't!" Essek warned him sharply, "Don't touch it, hold back that impulse, Caleb, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Caleb replied, yanking his arm back, "" _Scheiße_ , I'm sorry, it just—"

"It did was it was created to do. It's alright, please just be careful." 

Caleb nodded, his expression set, and returned to the task of easing the fabric of magic through the fragment, now dragging with it the flaw. When they came to the end of the fragment, Essek recited another incantation to break it free. Outside of the fragment, it materialized. The corruption was nothing exceptional, just a small, jagged charcoal-coloured pebble. Essek held it, suspended in the woven net, for a moment, then caught it neatly in a small lead-lined box he had brought along for that purpose, and tucked it back into the satchel at his waist. 

Caleb was looking at him, "Is that all?"

"I suppose we will find out but I believe so."

With that, they broke their meditation and returned to the open space of the Cathedral. 

All around them, drow, goblins and half-orcs were stirring, a low murmur turning to a loud roar. Panicked looks of confusion sprouted on their faces, as if they didn't know how or when they had arrived at the Cathedral. Essek cast an illusory bell sound, it rung out crisp and clear through the crowded hall and all eyes turned to Essek. Many looked relieved to have someone with authority there. Essek steepled his fingers and addressed the crowd. 

"Citizens of Rosohna," he began, amplifying his voice so it could be heard throughout, "Agents of the Empire have sought to use that which is most dear to us against us. A corruption within the beacon lured you here, shut your minds to your corporeal needs. As you know, the Empire is a land of cowards, and, knowing they could not hope to best us on the battlefield, they turned to cheap tricks. Myself and this man, Caleb Widowgast, Hero of the Dynasty, have ended the enchantment, and our beacon has been purified. For now, I ask that you return to your homes and care for your families. Do not let Empire cowardice change our daily life. Tomorrow, resume business as usual. We are a resilient people, not so easily ruffled." 

A loud voice boomed out: "Our gratitude to the Shadowhand!" and others followed suit until the whole throng bent in a respectful bow. Essek nodded in acknowledgement of their gesture, then levitated himself and Caleb up over the crowd and through the door.

*****

"That was, ah, a bit of a display," Caleb commented, once they were back on the ground and heading towards the Greater Cathedral, where den members conducted their prayers to the second beacon. 

"Mm," Essek agreed, "sometimes people like to believe there is some greater authority at work to protect them and a little demonstration of power doesn't hurt."

"You slander the Empire for trickery and then deceive your own?" Caleb challenged.

"What deceit have I committed, Caleb?" Essek asked curiously, turning to him, "They could not see what occurred within the beacon, they had no reason to trust my words beyond my status of Shadowhand. They were scared, disoriented, their own minds turned against them. I was simply reassuring them that the Dynasty remains strong and has powerful players who will fight for them."

"Like yourself."

"Like myself, yes, and you," Essek agreed, "Does this trouble you?"

Caleb sighed, "Manipulation does not sit well with me."

Essek gave him a soft smile, "You are too righteous for the filth that is politics, my dear, it is an admirable quality. Though that beacon you produced above the cathedral, that was a fine illusion, in itself."

"I had no choice," Caleb argued, "it was for their own good."

"It was," Essek agreed, "Please believe my intention, also, was only to give comfort."

******

The purification of the second beacon went much the same. Caleb did not appear to be at all tempted this time, and the den members had many more questions that the common folk but Essek assured them all answers would come in due time but first he must see to the Bright Queen. 

They two then followed the green-lit walkways to the Lucid Bastion. Essek was enjoying the interplay between his magic and Caleb's each time they performed the ritual. It sprouted of him like kinesthetic sense. He had an awareness of Caleb's body and position in space even when he couldn't see or hear him. He could feel Caleb's pulse resonate with his. He suspected that Caleb resented the interdependence. Essek could only imagine that having Ikithon be able to monitor him like this would be deeply pervasive and discomfiting. 

"Has your perception of our magic changed with each execution of the spell?" Essek inquired. 

"What do you mean?" Caleb asked. 

"For myself, I no longer have to search to find my magic within you, I am just always aware of where it is, how to connect with it. I was curious as to if your sense of it had changed as well."

"Hm," Caleb replied, thoughtfully, "It feels more...integrated. It is becoming at home within me and I am becoming more accustomed to it. I find I don't have to think how to use it, it is just there. It is a bit addicting, I think. You are..quite powerful."

Essek found he wanted to ask how his forces compared to Ikithon's but decided that was based from a place of jealousy, not knowledge-seeking and he didn't want to stir up those feelings in Caleb, what with the task ahead. 

"I hope it isn't too uncomfortable," he said, squeezing Caleb's arm, "I'll remove it as soon as I can. I know you value your autonomy."

"The problem is," Caleb responded, "that it is maybe too comfortable." 

******

The grounds of the Lucid Bastion was abandoned. No guards, no advisors, no landscapers, just empty darkness spotted with the burning green torches. He felt Caleb slip a hand into his. He could feel it, too, the wrongness of it all. Essek squeezed the hand, gratefully, then let it drop as he pushed his ways through the front entrance. 

The hallways echoed with Caleb's footsteps but no one appeared to see who had arrived. Essek led the way to the main chamber, his anxiety mounting. 

He was almost relieved to see the Bright Queen was imperiously seated on her throne. He stepped forward to greet her only to notice a slight shimmer in his vision as he realized it wasn't the Bright Queen at all, but an impeccable illusion. He dispelled it immediately, outraged and then set his jaw, for the spell had unraveled to produce the sallow, cunning face of Archmage Trent Ikithon. 

"Ah, Shadowhand, Bren, what a pleasure," he greeted them, "I understand I have you both to thank for bringing me here, to my new kingdom?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sure do appreciate the comments, gosh!


	18. Confrontation

The only thing keeping Caleb from spiraling into panic was the knowledge that he could not abandon Essek. He felt the effects of adrenaline in his system: his muscles readied for a fight, his heart quickening, slamming into his ribcage, his breath coming fast and shallow. Assess, he told himself. Assess and focus, he'll want to talk, he always wants to talk, wants everyone to know how clever he is. 

"Did the Heirloom Sphere not entertain you, Archmage?" He addressed the man, pouring all his energy into self-composure.

"Oh, it was a pleasant enough diversion," Ikithon responded, "but you should know by now that puzzles and tricks are not where I choose to channel my interests."

"No," Caleb agreed, "You prefer the torture of the innocent."

Ikithon gave him a patronizing smile that chilled the blood in Caleb's veins, "I can remember a time when you also enjoyed spilling blood, Bren, and it seems you still do. Mercenaries are hardly known for their clean hands."

Caleb felt his skin flush, revulsion shuddering through him as memories of long days underground rose up. The screams, the pleas, the anguish and the keen, overarching regret, like a stain he couldn't wash out. 

"What have you done with the Bright Queen?" Essek demanded, interrupting the exchange. 

Ikithon raised his hand and a crystalline bubble appeared before him, about the size of a melon. An image appeared on the surface of the bubble showing The Bright Queen, face expressionless, seated at an ornate desk, penning letters. "She's encouraging her troops to return and gaze upon the beacon. This missives will go out tonight with her sigil. The Dynastic troops will about face and invite the Empire in. But King Dwendal has no interest in governing this place. Once a taxation agreement is in place, he won't interfere. The untapped powers of this land were just too intriguing, I'm sure you'd agree, Shadowhand. I'm looking forward to you teaching me all you know."

"I can assure you, I will not," Essek responded, his voice matching Essek's casual tone. 

Ikithon smiled again and it made Caleb nauseous. "Bren has ways of extracting information, I'm sure together we can wring your little secrets out of you. It's quite a talent of his, really, isn't it, my boy?"

"I'm not yours," Caleb responded, coldly, "I never will be again."

"Don't tell me you don't miss it," Ikithon chided, "for all your resistance, when it came down to it, you loved the power, craved it."

Without Caleb's permission, a memory was pulled to the surface of his thoughts, Astrid at his side, running from her house in glee, where her parents lay poisoned. Caleb summoning the fire to destroy his own family, the traitors. Caleb remembered exactly the height of his exhilaration, his certainty.

"You remember," Ikithon affirmed, and Caleb realized the archmage had drawn that memory up for him. 

"Get out of my head," Caleb warned, "You are not welcome there."

"Oh, I think I am," Ikithon continued, and Caleb felt the sleeves of his cloak slough upwards, unbidden. There was a pause while Ikithon processed what he saw. "Interesting," he commented, and although he was attempting to appear blasé, Caleb was slightly satisfied to recognize surprise in his voice, "I see you found him irresistible as well, Shadowhand. He is a pleasing vessel."

"Alright, that is e-fucking-nough," Caleb was thrilled and also terrified to hear Beau's clear, strong voice coming from behind him. Her cockiness was reassuring but gods, he didn't want his friends mixed up in a fight with Ikithon, it was far too dangerous. Beau continued, "he's not a piece of meat or a goddamn vessel, you creepy old perv." 

Before Ikithon could reply, a crossbow bolt sang out, snagging the archmage right through the neck—he had been unprepared and it was am excellent shot. Caleb could not determine where Nott had fired from. Her stealth was nigh on legendary.

Ikithon yanked the bolt from his neck, looking furious, and quickly making a motion to close the wound. 

"Caleb, why don't you and Essek do what you need to do," it was Fjord who spoke this time, Caleb was unwilling to take his eyes off Ikithon long enough to determine the half-orc's position, "let us deal with this piece of rubbish." A burst of blackness shot out of Fjord's falchion. Caleb saw the archmage dodge it but the effect still took—his face became somehow more gaunt and unappealing. 

Essek clutched Caleb's forearm and suddenly they materialized in front of the final beacon in the centre of a pristine enclave.

"They can't fight him off," Caleb argued, horrified, "take us back, we have to help them."

"We will, dearest, I promise. But Fjord is right, we have to fix the beacon first. With the Bright Queen in her right mind, we have her guard at our disposal, and we need all that we can get, you know that to be true. Your friends are providing a diversion, and one that we greatly need, but they will not be able to stave him off for long. Come."

Torn but convinced, Caleb nodded his agreement and they convened again in the expanse. 

The ritual came naturally to them this time, as if it knew what to do without being summoned. The mesh between them fishing out the corruption and dropping it into the box Essek carried. 

"Good, Caleb—" Essek remarked, and then, quite suddenly, he blinked out of sight. 

Caleb panicked, scanning the expanse for any sign of the drow but all around him was nothingness. Before ending his own meditation, Caleb harnessed the fragment of possibility for himself, fear rising in his throat. If Essek was hurt—there was no question, Essek was hurt, an attack must have been made on his corporeal form while Caleb and he were here, it was only a matter of extent. Caleb blinked himself back to the enclave. 

Essek was trapped behind an illuminated, rainbow wall. His hands were outstretched as if he could not find his bearings. The plane was painfully bright in the darkness of the world, likely weakening the drow, and nearly blinding Caleb. 

Ikithon was facing Caleb. He looked worse for wear—the Nein had managed to land more than a few good blows. His neck was blotchy with purple bruises, his clothes had streaks of dark blood that Caleb was sure were from an effective Inflict Wounds. Nevertheless, he was smiling that unnerving smile of his. 

"Bren, you have caused me a great deal of trouble," he was saying when another crossbow bolt sailed through the air, planting itself between his spine and shoulder blade. Ikithon seemed to not even register it, 

"Let him go," Caleb responded. 

"I'm afraid I'm a little underwhelmed with the Shadowhand, here," Ikithon mused, "All it takes is to shine a little light on him and he all but dissolves. Whatever did his magic have to offer that mine didn't, Bren, really, I'm offended."

Suddenly the too-bright lights extinguished, "And I'm offended that you thought you could trap me with a spell that can be ended with a simple Dispell Magic," Essek spoke and Caleb almost choked on his relief. 

"You're right, let's try this one," Ikithon countered and fired a spell at Essek, a thousand tiny crystal splinters forming tiny missiles spiriting towards the drow's head. A Feeblemind spell, Caleb knew it at once, had seen it reduce so-called Empire enemies to blubbering husks, incapable of even basic life tasks. Caleb could not bear the idea of Essek stripped of his intellect, his wonder and ceaseless curiosity. It would destroy them both.

Caleb reacted before he even fully processed what he was seeing. He gripped Essek's magic in his mind's eye and, in a narrow cylinder around the drow, he instantly reversed gravity on everything save for the treacherous crystal shards. For a moment, the spell seemed not to take and Caleb stood, paralyzed with horror, grappling helplessly for a solution. All at once, he remembered the fragment of possibility. He willed the spell to take root, to hold, to save Essek from a miserable fate. 

With that, Essek fell up, slamming hard into the ceiling of the enclave. To Caleb's utter relief, the crystals, carried by their momentum, shot through space before landing uselessly on floor, outside the radius of the spell. He watched as Essek reclaimed himself, levitating himself out of range of Caleb's spell and settling on the ground beside him. The two watched as Ikithon again began to gather energy around him, readying another spell. All at once, the Nein burst into the room behind them, along with the Bright Queen and slew of guards.

Ikithon looked to Caleb, intent clear. He raised a hand, took a step closer, an incantation on his lips. Essek, without warning, swept in front of Caleb and uttered a single, impossible syllable in undercommon. And with that, Ikithon collapsed to the floor, lifeless. 

"Shit, is he dead?" That was Beau, breathing heavily as she clomped up towards the beacon. 

The Bright Queen sighed, "I should have liked to question him further, Shadowhand, was that quite necessary? The guard was here to take him, you needn't have executed him."

"It was entirely necessary," Essek responded, "he was threatening a hero of the Dynasty." 

Caleb looked at Essek then, feeling a ludicrous grin spreading across his face. 

"Very well," the Empress conceded, "nothing to be done now."

"I could ask his corpse a few questions," Caduceus suggested, congenially, "if it would please your Grace, of course." 

"Hm," the Bright Queen pondered this potentiality, "Interesting offer, Mr. Clay, I shall consider it. But first, we have much to discuss. Guards, secure the corpse, let no one near it. The rest of you, with me, please." She turned and led the party through the doors towards the throne room. Caleb and Essek trailed behind. 

"Alright?" Essek inquired, his hand coming to rest on the small of Caleb's back while they followed. 

" _Ja_ ," Caleb breathed, "thanks to you. You?"

"A few bruises," Essek replied, "thanks also to you. That was quite an effective shift."

"Apologies," Caleb smiled, not at all sorry. 

"Oh my love," Essek murmured, "Whatever would I do without you?"

Caleb felt a blush rise but didn't filter his reply, "I think we should maybe not find out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, thank you so much for the comments last chapter, like wow, you all were super nice and are all actual stars. I sat reading them grinning uncontrollably. Gah, you're the best! Thank you!


	19. Onward

The Bright Queen led her personal guard, the Nein, and Essek into a small council chamber. When all but the guard were seated around the sturdy carved table, she spoke.

"I hope, Shadowhand, that you can elucidate me on why I have no memories from the last day and a half and why even weeks before that seem shrouded in fog."

"Of course, your Grace," Essek replied and detailed his suspicions and the Nein's actions against Ikithon, omitting Dairon's involvement. He didn't think the Empress would take too kindly to knowing she had been spied upon. "At this time, we are not clear how Ikithon escaped the dungeon," he concluded, "although I suspect it was through powers of persuasion. I will need to interrogate the guards and survey any damage."

"I see," the Bright Queen acknowledged, sitting in silence with the news for a long moment.

"And the reason you didn't bring your suspicions to me directly was because you, correctly, believed me to be affected with this magic," she determined.

"Precisely, my Queen," Essek confirmed.

"And what proof do you offer of your tale?" She requested.

Essek produced the small box, "These are the corrupted elements that Widowgast and I extracted from the beacons. I should like to examine them myself to prevent a recurrence but of course understand if you should like to have them independently assessed first."

The Empress summoned the box over and briefly surveyed the nondescript little pebbles.

"I find myself inclined to believe your story, Shadowhand," she admitted at last, "as I am unable to otherwise explain away the last several weeks. Mr. Clay, I shall take you up on your offer to cross examine the corpse."

"Of course," Caduceus responded graciously.

"And what of the lost beacon upon which the Empire claimed to have information?" The Bright Queen asked.

"Unfortunately, I believe it was a ploy, an attempt to hold our attention while the corrupted beacons wreaked their havoc," Essek replied.

"So you believe King Dwendal to have been aware of Ikithon's transgressions?"

"That we cannot say, your Grace," Caleb spoke up, "but we intend to find out. Along with any of Assembly members who allowed the perversion of your sacred objects and the mass hypnosis of your people."

"And what trust should I have in you lot? Trouble follows you like iron filings to magnetite."

"You're not wrong," Fjord agreed, "but we have been forthright in our motives. We seek peace and well-being for the citizens of the Empire and the Dynasty, alike. Ikithon wanted to enslave your people. That would have ended the war, certainly, but at far too great a cost."

"You will remain in Xhorhas for an inquiry," the Bright Queen decided, "by all accounts, you acted as friends to the Dynasty but I hope you understand my caution."

"No offense, Lady, because we can stick around if you really want, but my thinking is the sooner we can get out there and see who Ikithon was working with the better. Essek can always bamf us back if you have questions. And it's not like you haven't been spying on us; if our intentions weren't legit, you would know by now," Beauregard pushed back.

"And perhaps I need my Shadowhand working on more important tasks than mass transporting a group of unruly mercenaries?"

"Maybe Essek could teach Caleb to teleport without a circle?" Jester offered, "He is really smart, you know, I bet he could learn it in like an hour."

"Jester, that is highly advanced magic," Caleb argued, humbly.

"It is not out of your grasp," Essek said, thoughtfully, "Especially if we don't break the bond we established to weed out the corruption, but that is up to you."

"If your wizard can learn this spell, I will accept those terms," The Empress announced, "but do not think you will lead me to any table of peace with the head of the Empire until you can prove his innocence in this. I will accept nothing short of his head were he involved in polluting our relics."

"I mean, that is pretty fair," Jester agreed, "that was a really creepy thing to do to a whole city. They were all like "whooaaa, I'm a zombieeee," it was super freaky."

"I am not familiar with these, ah, zombies," remarked the Bright Queen, then cut Jester off before she could launch into an explanation, "but I shall take your word for it.

"Very well," the Bright Queen rose, "I must meet with den leaders and reassure my people. Shadowhand, Mr. Clay, attend me. The rest of you, I thank you for your service and we will meet again tomorrow."

******

It was nearly morning when Essek finished his duties and made his way to the Xhorhaus. He crept through the front entrance, horrified by the apparent lack of security measures, and past the study into Caleb's room. There, at least, he observed, was a silver alarm thread. He was secretly pleased to find his presence didn't trigger the spell.

"Caleb?" He called out, voice soft, before he got too close. His intention was not to terrify the man, after all.

Caleb stirred and propped himself up in the small bed, "Hi," he greeted him, voice rough from sleep, "what time is it? Was hoping you might come."

"Not yet morning," Essek replied, seating himself next to the younger wizard, "just wanted to see how you were."

Caleb barked a quiet little laugh, "Haven't slept this soundly in decades," he explained, "are you staying?" He shifted back towards the wall, making room.

"If you'll have me," Essek responded, gratefully. He removed his boots and slipped under the covers, letting Caleb curl around him, "Gods, what a day."

"We did it though," Caleb offered, hot breath murmuring against his neck, arm sliding up Essek's chest, pressing them closer.

"That we did," Essek agreed, "And soon you're off to root out corruption from the most powerful organizations on the continent," he sighed, not wholly liking the idea.

"I am," Caleb conceded.

"Even if I might wish you here?" Essek prodded, not quite serious.

"Even then," Caleb kissed his neck, "but now I have a convenient spell that will deliver me to the middle of your study whenever I like. So, when you're not serving the Dynasty and I, ah, have a spell or two left for the day..." he trailed off.

"We can have nights. Maybe some evenings," Essek picked up the thread.

"If you like," Caleb agreed, shyly.

Essek clasped Caleb's hand, exhausted but exhilarated, "Short of having you in Rosohna always, there is nothing I would like more."

******

The two came in for breakfast together. Caduceus' cooking smelled wonderful, as ever.

"Aha!" Beau called out, mouth full, flinging her fork out to point at them, "Knew you were fucking."

"Whoa," Jester remarked, "did you guys spend the night together?" Caleb's cheeks pinked nicely in response, and Jester continued, "That is like, super romantic. Wow, Caleb, are you really really in love?"

" _Ja_ , Jester," Caleb answered quietly, "I think I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's all folks! 
> 
> Thanks a million times over for reading, and kudosing and commenting. I can't tell you how much this community means to me. I really needed a bit of a mental escape from school and this project was just so much fun and something I really looked forward to working on. And then having you send me kind words and like also enjoying it was just the actual coolest? 
> 
> Happy 2020 everyone!

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Rescued by Jack's Mannequin.


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